


Art Of War

by catsonfire



Series: Neighbors Verse [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Apartments, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, assload of pairings, everything is in the summary really, future smut, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsonfire/pseuds/catsonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noisy neighbors, nursling dinosaurs, satanic box cutters, shitty convenience store management, the word 'fuck', hereditary (but not really) homosexuality, beer and ramen, pennies, truckstops, strippers, closets, semi-public defacing, rings, house parties, "recreational" drug use, accidental rendezvous, toxic stew (don't eat the stew), nice abs, housewives--batteries not included, over-educational movie sessions, copious domesticity, kittens named after landlords, a shit joke at participating locations, and many, many happy endings.<br/>A modern AU in which Eren moves into the apartment directly above Levi's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Coffee Mugs and Cardboard Boxes (the asshole and the dinosaur)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna go ahead and throw out the warning that if you're looking for copious amounts of angst, this will not have it. This entire piece is going to be like one part conflict, nine parts fluff and hilarity (I hope). I'm also hoping to actually do these characters some justice oh god.  
> I may update the rating, tags or summary along the way, just in case anything extra pops up.  
> Also, huge thanks to my friends Miyubunny and Octopies for being badasses and beta'ing and throwing ideas and feedback at me constantly. i love you fuckers

_  
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_6:27 AM._ The bright blocky red numbers glared from the alarm atop a wooden night stand. It lit up a small portion of the dark room, the natural light of the sun blocked expertly by the curtains hanging over the windows of the small bedroom. Levi couldn’t sleep when outside light shone into his bedroom.

And he certainly couldn’t sleep with the noisy tromping going on in the room above his.

Three more minutes. _Three more fucking minutes_ wouldn’t have hurt anyone. No, though, some useless fuckwit had decided that 6:27 on Tuesday, June eleventh, the morning after inventory had finally ended at the convenience store Levi managed, they had decided, “You know what? Fuck you, Levi. Fuck you and your eight hours of sleep.” He had lived in his apartment for two years without incident; the last resident in the apartment above him had been quiet, an older woman with a soft step. The steps above him were too heavy, too clumsy and far too quick to be anyone over the age of twenty-five, where they’d realized there was no point in moving like that anymore and, really, what was the rush to get anything done ever anyway?

He lay there, contemplating life, gripping the edge of his comforter as he stared into the blackness of his ceiling. Even as his eyes adjusted, he saw nothing but black with a little hint of red from the alarm clock.  Why was he about to get up? Why was three minutes of rest such a big deal? Did he _really_ need to go to work, after putting up with this bullshit so early in the morning? 

_Step, step, step, step—THUNK._

_Step, step, step, step, step, step, step—pause._

_Step, step, step, step—THUNK._

Levi glared at the ceiling with every bit of hatred and fuck-you-for-waking-me-up-three-minutes-early he could muster. Another quick glance to the clock proved that it was still only 6:28 AM on Tuesday, June eleventh ( _Ah, yes, thinking is a free action_ ), and he could very well have the longest, most hindering day he’d never experienced ahead of him.

_THUNK._

He threw his comforter off, swung his body off of the bed and stalked over to his window. He drew the curtains back, light filtering into the small, spotless and perfect room. The only thing out of place that any naked eye could see was his bed, which he promptly re-made. He turned to slap the button on the top of his alarm clock at the same moment the shrill beeping started. He turned his eyes to the uniform hanging on a hook from his door, impeccably pressed, cleaned and flawless. He regarded the fact that he’d already made his bed, propelled by frustration to finish twice as fast as usual.

He left his room to start the coffee machine and considered with little interest that the noise level had hushed and the steps were substantially quieter. That was the volume he could easily live with. The occasional movement was just fine. Stepping like you were consciously aware of your neighbors downstairs was acceptable. Maybe, just maybe, the ignoramus that had been stomping around like a newborn elephant was just a mover, and his upstairs neighbor was a nice, reasonable person with grace and manners and everything nice in the world. They would meet, maybe, and then return to their daily lives, ignoring each other and living in the peace that Levi had when Old Woman Robertson lived above him.

Calm washed over him as the machine sputtered out just enough coffee for one large cup—all he needed to get himself going for the day. Levi retrieved his mug and poured himself a cup of coffee—

A sudden string of shouts from the floor above him startled him into dropping said mug.

It bounced artlessly off the edge of the wooden counter and down onto the floor, black painted porcelain shattering and sprinkling the tile, dark coffee spilling every which way, drenching Levi’s sweatpants. The sheer echoing sound of the not-so-clean break settled silence over what felt like the entire apartment complex as Levi stared down at the mess. There was no noise from the level above him. There were no birds singing outside. There was just the soft hum of a growl from the back of Levi’s throat as the heat from the coffee sank through his sweatpants and onto his skin.

He glared at the clock on the oven.

 6:33 AM.

God rest his poor morning cashier’s soul.

 

[--X--]

 

The brunette froze at the sound of shattering _something_ that was so loud, he was genuinely impressed by the sheer volume of it. Was it normal to be able to hear things like that from the apartment below you? In that case, how much of the noise that they had made on their _own_ floor had his downstairs neighbor actually heard?

“I told you to be quiet,” Mikasa mumbled, carefully placing two large cardboard boxes on top of another in the middle of Eren’s bedroom. “It’s not gonna be my fault if your neighbors hate you before you’ve even unpacked one box.”

“The—The walls and floor are thinner than they should be! That shouldn’t be normal!”

Eren’s voice came out in a hushed whisper, now, as if he were more than terrified—which he was—that even an inside voice would be heard from the room below him. Mikasa rolled her eyes at the accusing look Eren shot down at the carpeted floor of his new bedroom. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she pulled out her cell phone to check the time, shifting a box with ‘Clothes’ scrawled out on the silver duct tape out of her way with her foot. Eren regarded the lack of noise from the apartment below and felt a little bit of comfort. Maybe the crash had just been unnaturally loud. Maybe they _hadn’t_ woken up his potentially very friendly neighbor at whatever ungodly time in the morning it was.

“It’s six thirty-four. We probably woke the poor bastard up. Maybe I should stay here a little longer to make sure nothing . . .” Mikasa trailed off, shrugging her shoulders as she readjusted the bright red scarf slung around her neck. She shot her friend a look before placing her phone back into her pocket and picked up a box cutter.

“Mikasa, I can handle things on my own. That’s the whole reason I’m moving out. Becoming independent. The only thing you’ll have to worry about is me punching that dick hole from work in the face.”

“Don’t.”

Eren sighed as he took the box Mikasa opened and began pulling out the contents and placing them around where they’d need to be in the room. None of his furniture was up yet, except for the ragged couch in the living room (he knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to handle it, himself). He’d convinced Mikasa that what remained in the moving truck would be a piece of cake for him to take care of. She had classes, and while she’d insisted she could miss them to help him out, he wouldn’t let her.

“I helped you get that job, so I expect you to keep it,” she murmured, moving on to a different box. She had the rest of the boxes opened in the room by the time Eren finished unpacking his one box. “Don’t mess it up. Punch Jean all you want when you can actually fight for yourself.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna let _you_ kick his ass for me.”

“Why not?”

“Jean would pay you money for you to beat him shitless.”

Eren took a moment to appreciate his joke, snickering softly, while Mikasa rolled her eyes and sighed.  She tossed him the folded box cutter and shrugged, effectively avoiding the subject of Jean’s infatuation altogether. It was annoying to Eren, because being stuck at work with a babbling moron who wouldn’t stop talking about his _sister_ , and how hot she was, and about her beautiful hair, was the most testing experience he’d ever been through. Really, all he wanted to do was sell video games to slightly less infuriating teenage boys—not listen to some horn dog lust after Mikasa. If he was lucky, nine times out of ten, the manager would hit him over the head with a rolled up magazine and Jean would shut up.

Eren fiddled with the box cutter, only long enough to figure out how to unfold the damn thing, before Mikasa cleared her throat.

“I’m gonna get to class, Eren,” she said, walking over to him to ruffle his hair. She turned on her heel and headed for the door. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Yeah.”

The apartment fell silent after the soft shut of Eren’s front door.

He smiled to himself, smiled at the apartment, at the fresh paint on the walls, at the small chip in the door frame from god-knows-what. This was his apartment now. He was by himself. Sure, maybe he had opted to work instead of college (really, his marks had never been that pleasant to the eye anyway), maybe Mikasa and Armin were smarter than him, more talented, but he was the only one, out of the three of them, who was independent. He could make his own rules. He could bring people over without asking permission, he could leave the house without giving someone a heads up, he could leave the TV on and not worry about getting bitched at. This was his castle, albeit tiny and maybe a little shabby.

He twirled the box cutter in his hands, forgetting it was still unfolded.

Predictably, it sliced him right down the palm of his hand.

The brunette dropped the box cutter to the floor with a hiss, the clatter echoing through the room. He grimaced down at his thoroughly lacerated hand, mind trying to think over where Mikasa might have put the box with the bandages, and wondering if he even had the mental capacity to get the _damn box open without slicing his fingers off._ He stepped toward the door just in time to hear something dully thump to what he could only assume was the ceiling of the apartment below him.

Oh yeah, he’d forgotten about his neighbor.

_This is a fabulous start to my mature, entirely capable adult life._

[--X--]

 

“Wow, you look like hell,” Hanji practically sang from the table by the safe. There were bills messily organized (which, Levi thought, should definitely be a crime), kept together by paperclips, in front of her and she was counting a particular stack of twenties. “And you’re four minutes late. You’re never late. Did you hit a cat on your way here? I know how you love cats.”

“Incredibly outstanding observations from you as always, Hanji, it’s a shame you have no idea how to keep your gaping shit hole closed from time to time,” he shot back at her. She was unaffected by his icy tone. “I did not hit a cat. The bus driver might’ve, though, but who the hell knows.”

He walked past her, to the small clock in station in the corner of the cramped little office. It was inconveniently placed, he thought, considering this meant he had to sit back and watch every dreary employee squeeze past his and Hanji’s desks, past the safe and money table, past the three filing cabinets, and, lastly, past the god awful, _fire-breathing_ combination copier, fax machine and printer, just to clock in. He’d talked to the G.O. on several occasions about getting it moved into the break room, which was a little more spacious, but they never budged. Just like they never budged on the topic of letting him move—he’d prefer to destroy—the intimidating painting of the founding father to blame for their convenience store’s existence out of the office, as well.

As he punched in his employee numbers to clock in, Levi noted he was definitely four minutes late.

“A baby stegosaurus has moved into the apartment above mine,” he started casually. He sat down in his chair, giving the stack of paperwork on his desk a disinterested glance. “If you get a call in the next few days from the city jail, please accept it. I may need help talking my way out of a murder trial.”

The brunette woman grinned.

“That explains a lot. Did they wake you up?”

“Already, yes. I don’t see what was so _fucking brilliant_ about moving in before six thirty in the morning. With footsteps that heavy and fast, they _have_ to be young. Shouldn’t they take advantage of sleeping in?”

“You were never very early to rise. You still aren’t, unless there’s promise of coffee.”

“Ah, yes, speaking of which, I broke the mug you gave me for Christmas this morning.”

The glimmer of amusement in Hanji’s eyes from behind her glasses pissed Levi off.

“I’ll get you a new one. How’d you swing that?”

“They started shouting and it startled me.”

“It startled _you_?” Hanji raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her creaky (and probably far too old) desk chair. She let out a low whistle. “It takes practice to catch you off guard, and you’re usually the one surprising the shit out of other people. I’m amazed. Maybe you should get to know this person. Go on a few dates. Adopt a cat. Move in together. Talk about getting married and having children.”

Levi glared. “I can get you fired.”

“You could, but you could never find a better assistant manager than me,” she stated proudly, bumping her chest with her fist. “Anyway, now’s about the time Krista’s stalker comes around, and it’s your turn to stay up front with her. It’s also your week to take over the front while I’m out on lunch and we wait for Petra to get in for the afternoon. You might want to clean the bathroom today before Mike gets in there, because you know how he sometimes leaves grime under the seats—“

“Don’t remind me,” Levi muttered under his breath, already pushing himself up from his own creaky, old desk chair. He gave her forehead a flick for good measure before stepping out of the office.

The convenience store, to say the least, was cramped.

It wasn’t as cramped as it could’ve been, really, like your typical 7-11. In the mornings like this, a good three quarters of their customers just wanted coffee, donuts or gas. There was a bar next to the pastry box and the rolling grill with coffee and a fresh fruit bar that needed changing out and cleaning constantly. The rolling grill had to be changed and cleaned constantly. The soft drink station had to be changed and cleaned constantly. On any given day that Levi worked, the bathrooms were cleaned twice (and sometimes more). Then there were your regular rows of snacks, over-priced everyday items, the refrigerated section, a small area with tables to eat at, and then, of course, your checkout counter. It was equipped with the stereotypical clear counter to see through to the lottery tickets, a cash register sitting on either side of it. The displays were always kept in tip-top shape, replenished as needed. The cigarette display was behind the counter, along with signs that obnoxiously informed the customers that, ‘We card!’ and to ‘Smile, you’re on camera!’

On a good day, one where all of the employees knew Levi was going to work, the store was kept spotless and he was kept happy. He’d been managing this particular location for four years now. He thought it was about damn time someone tried to keep him happy.

Krista, a tiny blonde—even shorter than him, Levi noted, with a grudging sense of pride—took her place behind the counter, smiling a little nervously at him. After the first time he had snapped at her for not cleaning something well enough, she’d feared him. Now she ran her head off, cleaning as well as she could at any given time. She was never quite sure when he’d emerge from the office.

Levi slid behind the counter with her.

“Lover girl should be here soon,” he said absently, picking up a duster—one of those Swiffers that picked up dust instead of just _pushing it around_ —and regarding the immediate redness to Krista’s cheeks. “You know, you could always just tell her no. Fuck letting her down gently, she can handle her own, I’m sure.”

“But . . . I—I just don’t know,” the blonde choked out, wringing her hands nervously. “She’s nice.”

Levi let her response soak in for a moment, running the duster over the shelves behind the counter. Very little dust came up.

“Then give her your number?”

Krista’s cheeks darkened. His words startled her, and she even straightened up a little, but she didn’t put up a fight for that one. Levi’s interest, of course, was immediately captured. He turned his body and attention over to Krista. His expression remained dull, but his eyes brightened.

“Oh? You’re entertaining the idea. You’re interested?”

“Levi, your gossipy elderly woman is showing!” Hanji’s shout from the office tethered his attention to Krista, and he growled. “You’re not allowed to give the poor girl a heart attack so early in the morning. I bet she’s thirty shades of red right now.”

As if on cue, or maybe planned, the door chimed as it opened. A tall woman, a good five inches on Levi, with dark hair and tanned skin made her way into the convenience store. She shot Krista a little look, before resuming any regular bread and butter customer’s routine of wandering up and down the aisles until she found what she was looking for.

Levi hummed the wedding march under his breath just to watch Krista squirm.

 

[--X--]

 

“Aw, fuck.”

Eren scowled at the coffee table in front of him, gracefully wedged between the handrail of the stairs, the wall, and, well, the stairs. He wasn’t getting it to budge. Mikasa had offered to help, and he had declined. Now, he faced the consequences with a stuck coffee table and so much regret. There were two more cuts on his hands from the heinous box cutter and he had simply resolved to wrapping his hand in gauze and taping it up. He’d contemplated going to the emergency room for stitches, when it had taken an entire three hours to get the biggest of the three to stop bleeding.

He’d even been reduced to texting Armin about medical advice. He was majoring in medicine. He should know, and he did. He’d at least saved Eren a trip to the hospital.

The brunette sat down on the edge of the third stair and rested his elbows on his knees. He clasped his fingers and rested his chin on them, scrutinizing the dreaded coffee table. He concentrated heavily, stupidly, hoping maybe it would lift itself up the stairs and into his living room, but it did no such thing. _That’s right, coffee tables don’t levitate._

Except _this_ coffee table was damn well levitating.

It rose up into the air, above Eren’s head, above the handrail, above—

“The fuck is this just sitting out here for?” the man, now holding Eren’s coffee table ( _with one fucking hand)_ demanded. “You’re blocking the way to my apartment.”

Eren shot straight up, readying a retort or a mumbled apology or an excuse, but his eyes raked over the other man and his words fell short. He was shorter than the brunette, substantially so. His black hair was slightly disheveled, probably much to his displeasure, as it looked like it was very particularly taken care of, undercut just so. His features were sharp, though, and intimidating in ways that Eren was not willing to admit. His eyes were steely in both senses of the word, his mouth drawn into an irritated, tight line. He wore a uniform for a convenience store line that Eren vaguely recognized, his nametag reading ‘Levi’, with the word ‘Manager’ in blue bold down below. He was _definitely_ holding Eren’s coffee table above his head with one hand.

He even took in miniscule details, such as the plain silver ring on Levi’s right-hand middle finger, the man’s finely manicured fingernails, the spotlessness and gleam of his boots, the fact that it very well looked like he had his eyebrows plucked professionally.

“Please, dear God, tell me you’re not deaf,” Levi muttered, tone cold and frustrated. “Jesus, I’m not gonna stand here and hold your fucking coffee table forever. Actually, you know what.”

He stepped past the hand rail, and propped the coffee table on the stairs.

The man turned to regard Eren with that same cold, unforgiving look. He looked like he was expecting more than Eren gracelessly stumbling over his words but that was all Eren was giving him.

“I—D-Damn, I’m sorry, I thought—I swear that thing was stuck, I couldn’t get it to move out of the way, sorry.” Eren grappled with his words, but he’d already been intimidated into babbling. “Uh, well, my name’s Eren. I just moved into the apartment in the floor right above this one.”

Recognition, or maybe just simple acknowledgment, lit Levi’s eyes, but only for a fraction of a second. That light was immediately replaced with a darkness that would’ve made Eren flinch if he hadn’t been so excited and nervous to meet his neighbors. Levi glared at him, and the brunette felt a surge of anxiety, exactly what Levi was aiming towards getting, hit him like a Wal-Mart bag full of stones.

If only looks could bitterly dismember you.

“So you’re the baby stegosaurus,” Levi mumbled absently, quietly, and Eren might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention. “Kid, would it fucking _castrate_ you to be a _little_ quieter at six in the goddamn morning? Did you forget that people might be living below you? People who have shitty day jobs working with an already shitty public? Fuck.”

Eren, of course, was aghast. His jaw hung slack, lips parted as he stumbled to catch up to Levi’s words.

_Did he call me a stegosaurus?_

The man’s voice was quiet, but his words were clear. His face displayed disinterest, but his eyes showed his emotion. His voice was deeper than expected, and, despite his stature, very terrorizing. His analytical gaze was captivating in some ridiculous sense, demanding Eren’s attention and respect.

Eren decided that if he were to die young, Levi would be the one to kill him.

“Shit,” he breathed out finally. “I—I’m so sorry, you’re in the apartment below me, right? Shit, we—“ He paused. “— _I_ —probably woke you up with the noise in the bathroom . . . Christ, it’s probably right above your bedroom or something. I am _really_ sorry—“

“Alright, alright,” Levi muttered, holding up a hand and making a slicing motion to shut Eren up. “Good enough, you can stop now. Just . . . Keep the noise level at a bare minimum before six thirty, except on Sundays and Thursdays. Make all the damn noise you want after that, alright?”

Even though he said that, Eren was already petrified into making as little noise as humanly possible for the rest of his life. The brunette figured, after a tiny flicker of sympathy flashed across Levi’s eyes, that his fear probably reflected on his face like garish neon strip club sign. Seeing something other than negativity or neutrality in the man’s eyes was a little bit of a relief— _maybe he won’t want to slit my throat in the middle of the night after all_ —but only a minimum. Eren thought over the possibilities of what he could do to make this up, before lighting up with an idea.

He tugged a well-used pencil and a receipt from his minor grocery shopping from this morning out of his pocket. Levi watched him, still scrutinizing his every move, as he scribbled down his cell phone number before holding it out to the smaller man.

“Here!” he said, trying to smile. It was hard. “My name’s Eren. If you need anything, just call my cell, alright? I work on weekdays from eight to four, but other than that I’m usually free.”

The way the black haired man simply stared at the disheveled receipt unnerved him. Levi finally accepted it, though, and looked it over, before turning his eyes back to Eren. He looked like he expected something, Eren noted, who, with another hit of sheer panic, realized he had nothing else to offer. He’d already used up his brain power for the day, and it was an extra ten cents per minute that he wasn’t willing to cough up.

So, when nothing was offered, Levi crumpled the receipt in his fist.

“Thanks, kid, but I seriously doubt I’ll need this,” he stated. Eren noted, though, that he still held the receipt. As an afterthought, he added, “Please don’t be a grunter, by the way. If your bathroom is right above my room, I _really_ don’t want to wake up to the sound of you shitting in the middle of the night, holy fuck.”

Eren’s mouth fell open again, but nothing came out.

Levi must have taken that as his cue, because he turned rather sharply and stalked down the hall with as much as a goodbye. Eren watched, silent, as he pulled the keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door, opened it, stepped into his apartment, and slammed the door behind him. It was uncomfortable, staring at the closed door, so he turned his gaze downward. Turquoise eyes stared down his coffee table as he processed everything that had just happened.

 _What an **asshole**_.


	2. The Match to the Ready Fuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi's picked up a study in Getting A Rise Out Of Eren 101, while Armin and Mikasa accidentally give Eren the idea to retaliate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank god for betas who notice when you put 'cock' instead of 'clock'. And I quote, "Multitasking blow jobs".
> 
> also thank you all for the WONDERFUL responses oh man. All of the kudos and comments and jsakdfjsdfja make for a VERY happy me.  
> This chapter will be a little slower and heavy on the Eren but this is the start of what I've been looking forward to most!
> 
> boywitch.tumblr.com !

 

 

Mid-way through feeling gravity viciously pull him down from the edge of his mattress and onto the floor, Eren had a fleeting wish that, perhaps, he was still back home with his mom and Mikasa, in the one-story home with no angry neighbors living below him that he firmly believed could give testicle-shriveling glares. He prayed to God, Zeus, _Merlin_ or whoever may have been burdened with watching over him that he would live to see another day, and that he definitely was not slamming down onto the floor with full force. His yelp was a vocal prayer for it to be after six thirty, or at least after his downstairs neighbor’s coffee time.

The loud _thump_ his body made as he hit the floor was like a resounding response of, “You’re shit out of luck, kid. You’re dead. You’re dead and you’re probably gonna have a concussion because you’re a man-child who has the occasional nightmare and gravity hates you. The universe does, too. She says you owe her twenty bucks, by the way.”

Eren’s groan died in his throat before it could even really surface.

He sat up, rubbing his temple and then his shoulder, before aimlessly groping around on his bed for his phone. Fruitless, he willed himself to stand and make the trek over to the light switch. Sure, there was a little bit of light filtering through his blinds, but he didn’t have the common sense to draw them. Instead, with a flick of the light switch mounted on the wall, the room was filled with artificial light and, after much searching through his blankets and sheets, he finally located his phone. With a small sigh, he unlocked it to check the time.

Eren _almost_ hummed in relief to find that it was, indeed, after six thirty. It was Thursday, though, and that meant that Levi was off. He’d committed this to memory. Wednesday had gone off without a hitch, probably because he’d walked with the quietest steps he could manage. He hadn’t run into Levi at all, and he had finished unpacking as soon as he got home from work.  It was Thursday, though, and there was a strong possibility he’d just disturbed Levi. It was implied that the man liked to sleep in past six thirty, or at least that’s what he understood and was going to live by. One part of him felt like he was joining a cult, with Levi as his strict lord and savior, but the other part felt like he was simply adapting to survive.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he shuffled out of his bedroom. He shoved his phone haphazardly onto the kitchen table upon reaching it, before immediately dragging himself over to the cabinet to pull out a box of cereal.

Over his bowl of cereal, with very little light pouring through the shitty, tiny window in his shitty, tiny kitchen/dining room, he thought about what it _could_ have been like, having a friendly neighbor.

Instead, he had Levi.

Realizing, all too late, that the only thing he had thought about since he’d woken was Levi, he cleared the tiny-and-full-of-apparent-rage man out of his mind, downed his remaining milk, and tossed the plastic bowl and spoon into the sink. He was done with brooding.

He went along his way, somewhat following a morning routine before work. He fished out a shirt suitable for work from his pile of messily folded laundry and tugged it on. Shimmying out of his pajama bottoms and into a pair of jeans, he thought about his plans with Mikasa and Armin. They were going to meet him at the shop after he got off work, and then walk back to his apartment. Armin, apparently, needed to complain about one particular professor; Eren, himself, definitely wanted to complain about his neighbor behind closed doors; and . . . Well, Mikasa rarely complained, so all Eren expected out of her was a quiet commentary on the two men’s problems, and his fridge to be raided of his beer. He made a mental note to pick up more beer.

A glance at the clock while he pulled his sneakers on showed that he still had an hour until he needed to clock in. The shop was only a twenty minute walk from his place, but that meant he could stop somewhere and snag lunch for later.

He thought that, at least, until he stepped out of the complex after a short wave to the secretary behind the counter.

There he was. There the gloriously intimidating, frustratingly attractive asshole was, sitting on the aged wooden bench in the courtyard, underneath a ridiculously out-of-place eucalyptus tree (Eren had no idea Eucalyptus trees could survive anywhere but Australia, the poor ignorant bastard). Eren’s step faltered and he took Levi in for a second, despite his internal dilemma. The shorter man looked calm, maybe distracted or even content, holding a Styrofoam cup from the opening, every now and then taking a little sip. That was really all he was able to observe before the man in question cleared his throat and he realized that he’d stopped, mid-step, simply to stare at his lower-level neighbor.

“Good morning, Eren,” Levi murmured from behind his hand and the rim of his Styrofoam cup. “You must’ve hit your head pretty damn hard when you fell this morning; it sounded like you’ve decided to start training for mixed martial arts by leaping head-first from your bed. You definitely don’t look alert this morning, slack-jawed and dull-eyed as could be. Maybe you should look into coffee.” He lifted his cup, as if proving a point. “I stay true to Folgers and the occasional indulgence of Dunkin’ Donuts, simply because that’s what I was raised on, but you seem like the Maxwell House or Starbucks kind of guy.”

“I guess you have to stay true to your roots,” Eren offered. He ignored the insults, praying Levi would be civil this morning now that he’d gotten that out of his system.

Levi hummed in response, taking another sip.

“If you’re ever feeling particularly murderous in the morning, this bench is a _great_ happy place.”

_Don’t ask why, Eren. It’s a trap. You’re gonna die. Don’t do i—_

“Feeling _particularly_ murderous today?” When Levi hummed, this time an affirmative, Eren took the bait. “Why’s that?”

_Goddammit._

“Has something to do with a physically inept, mentally destitute, poor excuse of a fuckface neighbor who has been living above me for three days and has woken me up an entire two times already.” Levi’s voice was cold, now, as he gave Eren a pointed look that made him shiver, but his face was still calm, sort of serene in the most frightening way. “Do you need a crib rail guard, kid? We can get you a crib rail guard.”

Something inside of Eren woke up, only to crumple up, break and die.

“Do you even fucking think before you—“

“I do, but apparently you do not.”

“The fuck is your problem?”

“My problem, Eren,” Levi drawled out with extra attention to the brunette’s name, leaning his head back to watch a couple of birds in the branches above his head, “Is that you are a noisy, sloppy-looking human being with the grace of an angry, horny giraffe and you had the audacity to move in to the apartment you moved into.”

Eren scowled. Oh no, he wasn’t backing down this time.

“First of all, I didn’t wake you up yesterday, did I? I didn’t disturb you at all, right?” He glared, and though it was nothing compared to one of Levi’s, he didn’t falter. “Today was an off-day. I fell out of bed, that’s it. It doesn’t happen very often. I won’t be waking you up anymore, alright, you pompous asshat? I’ll be as quiet as fucking humanly possible, and you won’t have a single shitting thing to complain about.”

_Let’s get the gravestone ready, bud._

Eren didn’t know when Levi had looked away from the tree, but their eyes locked. The primal instinct to high-tail it the fuck out of there deluged him, but his feet rooted themselves to the ground.

“Not bad,” Levi murmured, almost absently, tone almost bored. He sat down his now-empty cup. “Good to see you have something in you, kid. If you just stood there and looked ready to shit yourself all the time, I’d get bored.”

The amusement in Levi’s eyes succeeded in igniting the pilot light for Eren’s anger again.

He muttered a quiet, almost inaudible, “Fuck you,” that he really hoped Levi hadn’t heard. It had been meant as more of a thinking-aloud kind of thing, instead of a frontal insult. He didn’t wait to see if the smaller man had heard him, though. He was quick to continue his trek down the stairs, down the pathway to the sidewalk, down the street in the direction of his workplace.

He didn’t give a fuck if he was early, or if that meant an extra thirty minutes with Jean.

The smug but disinterested look on Levi’s face was imprinted in his mind, and it was going to tick him off for the rest of the day, he was sure.

 

[--X--]

 

“Jean, I swear to God,” Eren muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and his thumb. “If I had the tools, I’d disembowel you right about now.”

The extra thirty minutes with Jean had not been worth it.

While being around Levi was testing and, all in all, pretty draining, he sometimes forgot that he’d prefer to be around anyone _but_ Jean Kirstein at any time. He’d really preferred to get a thoroughly ass-chewing from Levi over listening to Jean talk about _whatever the fuck it was_ he’d been talking about for almost a solid eight hours. Was it a video game? Maybe he was talking about some familial or friend drama? A television show? Eren really had no fucking idea, because he’d stopped listening the moment Jean’s mouth opened and his horrid voice flowed from his flapping horse lips.

_This asshole really likes the sound of his voice._

“Aw, how cute,” Jean said, a condescending grin on his face, one that Eren wanted to punch right off of him. “You’ve picked up a dictionary, have you? Maybe Armin and Mikasa’s smarts are rubbing off on you finally. It’s only taken, what, fifteen years?”

The brunette opened his mouth to counter, possibly fling an insult right back, but he heard a pop and watched as Jean flinched and rubbed the back of his head. His lips parted once more, poised to laugh or make a quip, but he felt a sharp smack against the back of his own head. He peered over his shoulder just in time to see a small blonde woman, hair pulled up in a bun identical to what she wore _every_ day, was already retreating back into the back office, mumbling dully about a pair of monkeys running a cash register.

Eren inhaled slowly, only to exhale with a hiss, as if he were trying to put a damper on his anger, or will Jean to disappear. Neither happened.

“I swear, one of these days, Annie’s gonna kick our asses,” Jean murmured. “You’d deserve it.”

 _Three minutes until I can go home,_ he thought, staring hard and long at the clock on the wall. Mikasa and Armin, speaking of which, would be there any second to save him from hell. _Hurry the fuck up._

Jean’s voice dropped to a whisper, and Eren had to fight back a groan.

“You know, I saw Annie and Mikasa at TCBY’s the other day, and it looked like they were heading off to the movies.”

“I think it’s pretty normal for friends to hang out, Jean.”

“Whatever, man. Whatever.”

Time didn’t move fast enough during the slower hours. The video game store was usually bustling, but around the same time of day, when Eren was close to getting off, the store would go _dead_. There were things to do, of course. He could leave the counter and organize things, tidy up magazines, probably just turn around and watch the TV looming on the wall behind them, or even go play on the Try Me! Xbox sitting in the corner and convince Annie he was simply making sure it was fully functional if he was caught. She never bought it.

One minute early, the beautiful, lovely, terrifying and usually pretty unpleasant _angel_ of a manager poked her head out of the office. “Eren, your friends should be here any minute, right?” she asked. She temporarily reminded him of Levi, with the way she looked so uninterested, but her eyes showed just a little bit of emotion. Levi was, in all honesty, a little more animated than her and _fuck_ why was he always thinking about him? “Go ahead and clock out. I’m sure you’d rather be with them than the horse’s ass. Say hi to Mikasa for me.”

Annie jerked a thumb at Jean and stuck her tongue out to raspberry at him before disappearing once more. Jean sputtered and glared at Eren accusingly.

The brunette grinned and shrugged, throwing his arms up and practically twirling around the other man to get to the back office. “Sorry princess,” he sang, and rather off-key at that. He pulled off his lanyard, laden with his keys and nametag, and swung it around in the air.  “Looks like you’re shit out of luck until Sasha shows up. Maybe I should leave your leftovers out on the table for her.”

Eren ducked back into the back rooms before Jean could spout off. He clocked out swiftly, as if anyone could believe he’d been swiping the same damn card and punching in the same damn numbers for three years, and left his own leftovers out for Sasha as part of an agreement they’d made (she covered his bathroom duty in exchange for any extras). She usually cleaned the shitty one-table break room, equipped with a tiny mini-fridge and a microwave that only worked if you hit it on the right spot, of any loose food on her own lunch breaks.

By the time he’d waved goodbye to Annie and made his way back out to the front of the store, Armin and Mikasa were leaning over the counter, waiting for him. Jean and Armin were talking about some game, probably a strategy Armin had picked up, and Mikasa looked absolutely disinterested, waving Jean off when he asked her opinion.

_Poor bastard._

Mikasa’s eyes were on him immediately (and Eren shook off the feeling that she had actually been looking _behind_ or _through_ him for the first few seconds). When he rounded the counter, her hand found his arm and Eren took that as the customary sure sign that she knew he was ticked off about something. Questions were going to come soon, and he definitely didn’t want to be in front of Jean to let of steam, let alone the work place he knew all too familiarly.

“Nerd time is over,” he said, grinning a little as he nudged Armin’s side with his elbow. “Maybe you should swap numbers so you can try to impress each other with high scores. We need to borrow Armin, though, so you can court him with your tiny brain and walkthrough usage later on.”

Mikasa was already pulling him towards the exit, muttering about not putting up with their shit. Armin followed after, smiling a little apologetically and bidding Jean a far friendlier goodbye.

“Blow me, Jaeger,” Jean grumbled. He opened his mouth to say more, but a customer had stepped into the store, and they were halfway out the door anyway.

“You wish!”  

The walk to the complex was peaceful. The three of them moved and spoke sort of harmoniously and complimentary. Armin raved about his current professors while Mikasa made her to-be-expected soft commentary made up of short sentences and little hums and Eren made little quips and matched Armin’s enthusiasm when he got particularly excited or annoyed by something. The questions from Mikasa didn’t come, unlike what he had expected, but he was taking what he could get.

The area between the game store and the apartment complex was a smooth walk. There were plenty of trees and bushes, but the buildings were unique and the sidewalks newly re-made. Every time Eren made the walk to get used to it, he found something new. It was a refreshing change from his old walk, which might have been shorter, but much less eventful. His mother and Mikasa lived in an area more suited for retirement, whereas the apartment complex delved a little closer to the downtown area, which meant more people, or at least livelier people. Most people walked to where they wanted to go, either because the weather was nice or because it was cheaper on them.

 He’d also noticed a clan of cats that seemed to get bigger every time he saw them that prowled the neighborhood at all hours, and that _someone_ in the complex always sat out a dish of food for them. He wasn’t sure who it was, but he could probably take a wild guess.

Eren saw that the dish was sitting out for the cats again this afternoon, like always, as they started up the pathway through the courtyard to get to the front steps.

“I probably shouldn’t complain,” Armin murmured, wrapping up a sermon on apparent teaching etiquette that one particular professor lacked. “I wanted to attend classes during the summer, too, to finish up quicker, but the last two years weren’t so bad.”

Armin and Mikasa were taking summer classes together. Mikasa was mostly taking them because she’d taken the spring semester off to save up money, and how she’d pulled that off, Eren wasn’t really sure. He knew absolutely jack shit about college, thus why he wasn’t attending with them. He’d been insistent upon going to work instead of college, mostly because he had no idea what he wanted to do. That still stood true.

“It’s good to get it out,” Mikasa murmured, opening the entrance door for the two of them. They stepped in and she followed. Eren didn’t miss the look he got from her, but tried to play it off by waving at the receptionist. “Speaking of which, Eren . . .”

She wasn’t using the Mom Voice on him, at least.

He didn’t dare point out his problematic neighbor, who he’d forgotten about until Mikasa had brought his train of thought back to whatever she knew was on his mind, until they’d made the left turn and walked up the stairs to his apartment. He didn’t even chance talking while the door was open, waiting until his two friends were seated on his couch. He flopped down onto the raggedy old loveseat, an old gift from his mother for moving out on his own. It had been one that he grew up snuggling up  and taking naps on, curled up in throw blankets with cups of tea that his mother insisted on him drinking, especially when he was sick.

“So, remember that crash we heard on Tuesday when you were helping me move in?”

Mikasa groaned, rubbing her forehead.

“Do I have to kick their ass?”

“No, preferably not. I mean, hell, you could probably take him, he’s hardly five feet tall—“ he was aware of the exaggeration, but made no move to correct himself, “—and he works at a convenience store. He always either looks bored or exhausted. I’m sure his life is shitty enough as it is.”

Armin was the only one who laughed at Eren’s makeshift joke. Eren could see the wheels turning and gears clicking in Mikasa’s mind, and that almost made him nervous.

“Levi?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “Is that his name?”

“ . . . I’m not sure if this is the right question to ask, but do you know everyone in town?”

“No,” she muttered, shooting a small frown at Eren. “There’s a convenience store near your store where a short guy named Levi works, he’s the manager. Is that him?”

“Sounds like it,” Eren said, eyebrows arched. “Unless there are just cults of grumpy short men named Levi who manage convenience stores in this area. Why?”

“Eren, I don’t mean to alarm you, but you should really avoid making that guy _really_ angry. He’s kind of popular around here, because he’s knocked a few customers out in the past. I actually saw him yesterday, about lunchtime, out at the register by himself.”

Eren paled. Oh, he was alarmed.

“Well, that would explain why he’s so fucking . . .” He couldn’t even think of a word. “I dunno, asshole-ish? He’s been nothing but a prick since Tuesday, but a different kind of prick than Jean, you know? Said he felt murderous today because I fell out of bed and called me an angry, horny giraffe.”

He could tell by the look on Armin’s face that he was trying, _trying so hard_ , not to laugh. Mikasa was a completely different story. If Levi had felt murderous earlier, his mood faltered in comparison to hers. She looked ready to stomp down the stairs and kick some ass, and Eren knew that look. He was already waving his hands to calm her down, or dismiss any actions that may follow. She hardly softened up at all.

“Don’t let that little shit push you around,” she muttered, looking away. “Don’t let him get violent with you, though. If he does, call me—“

“Mikasa, Mikasa.” He was quick to cut her off, still waving his hands and smiling sheepishly. “It’s fine, alright? I can handle it. I probably just have to get on his good side.”

“And definitely don’t pay for anything at his store while he’s there with loose change,” Armin mused absently, glancing around the living room. On the shelf of one of Eren’s bookshelf sat a mason jar almost filled to the brim with change. That was probably what triggered the thought. “That’s a terrible idea, but a pretty Eren-esque thing to do, so let’s not.”

Eren didn’t respond, eyes travelling over to the mason jar.

The smile on his face could only be described as devious.

“Eren? No. Please don’t do that—Christ. Eren.”

 

[--X--]

 

Levi leaned up against the counter, bored and annoyed. Only twenty minutes had passed since his morning cashier and Hanji had left for lunch, but an hour’s worth of customers had already flown through. Saturday lunch rushes were hell, like an actual _physical_ hell. They fluctuated and the customers always came in clusters in this area. Right now he was being gifted with a temporary break from the hustle and bustle, but only a short one. He knew it’d pick right back up. He preferred staying busy. It killed the time.

He turned his attention down to the counter and he realized how dirty it had gotten in the last twenty minutes. He pulled his cleaning supplies out as  the door swung open and rang to announce the presence of a customer he didn’t bother greeting. The manager regretted this as soon as he wiped away the last of the cleaning spray and looked up to see one Eren Jaeger with the _stupidest, most infuriating,_ shit-eating grin the brunette could probably manage.

“Oh yay, now you know where I work,” he said, faking enthusiasm and stowing his supplies in its place behind the counter. He frowned at Eren, whose features hadn’t budged. “Okay, what do you want, brat?”

“Just this,” Eren stated, placing a twelve pack of beer on the counter (Mikasa had drank him dry after hearing about Levi). He noticed Levi’s critical eye and frowned. “What?”

“You sure you’re old enough for this?” Levi asked, one eyebrow raising as he scanned it. “I’ll need some ID, kid. And twenty-three fourty-seven.”

Eren rolled his eyes, tugging his wallet out of his back pocket with the hand he’d been holding the beer with, only flipping it open to show Levi his birth date. Levi hummed in acknowledgment and crossed his arms over his chest. Eren stuffed the wallet back into his back pocket.

“Interesting. So you’re not the hardly-pubescent teen boy I thought you were. Now, if you’d kindly pay and leave.”

Eren tugged a ten dollar bill out of his front pocket, now, and dropped it on counter. Levi opened his mouth to state the obvious, that ten bucks definitely wouldn’t cover the beer, maybe offer to teach Eren his numbers again or escort him back to kindergarten, when Eren lifted the hand he’d kept hidden behind the counter the entire time. He placed a mason jar, almost filled to the brim with change, and scooted it closer to Levi. His shit-eating grin didn’t budge.

“Sorry, the ten’s all I have in cash. I’ll have to pay with change. The Coinstar outside is broken.”

Levi decided that if Eren were to die young, he’d be the one to kill him. 


	3. Cannibal, or Just a Dick?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We go down together, or we don't go at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really fucking love picturing a tiny, angry little levi jumping out of the driver's seat of a big ass truck and just looking really disappointed in everything in the world  
> he'd have to use the little step rail thing too oh my god
> 
> ON A MORE SERIOUS NOTE  
> 1) i'm going to CRY because everyone is so sweet and I sososososo appreciate all of the comments and kudos. Thank you all so much oh my goooood ;_______;  
> 2) GOD BLESS MY BETAS. without them nothing would ever make sense. I love you two so very much.  
> 3) I'm going to try and update three times a week, so let's see how that goes shall we. I'll be looking for a job soon but it'll probably only be part time SO don't worry too much.
> 
> boywitch.tumblr.com !

 

Levi found out that the Coinstar outside of the store was, indeed, in working order from Hanji.

“The little shit came in earlier,” he had hissed out as soon as he and Hanji were in the office alone. Petra was behind the counter, as was customary on days she worked. Afternoons were hers. “By the way, we need to get the Coinstar fixed.”

Hanji raised an eyebrow, tilting her glasses down to look at him. He assumed it was from his dismayed, probably a-little-too-irritated tone of voice.

“First of all,” she started, leaning back in her chair. It let out a painful, godforsaken creak. “What little shit? There are a lot of little shits in your personal directory of little shits. Also, the Coinstar is working just fine. I watched someone use it earlier. Now, the Redbox needs to be fixed, and the ATM is still having that problem where it’ll sometimes not give the money back to the customer, but that clears itself up within about forty-eight hours and I’m pretty sure that’s normal for ATMs anyway. The guy for the Redbox is coming on Monday.”

Levi stared at her, face blank and then calm. He watched Hanji shudder, most likely from the sudden coldness of the room. This was not the good kind of calm. This calm, the calm he was feeling right now, was at least fifty times worse than the calm he had felt on Thursday morning after being woken up by Eren. The kid had been so good until today. He hadn’t fallen out of bed, stomped around, listened to too-loud music or too-loud television, and he hadn’t even spoken a single word to Levi. That was the kind of life Levi wanted. The last thing he wanted was to deal with Eren.

“I counted thirteen bucks and forty-seven cents for absolutely  _nothing_?”

The kid was going to  _definitely_  fucking die now.

He was brought back to the present, anger seeping through his pores and onto the woman that had decided to sit down next to him while waiting for her car.

The only reliable mechanic shop in town happened to be connected to the only truck stop in town. The only truck stop in town was possibly the most  _disgusting_  building in town, as well. The owner of the shop tried to keep it as clean as possible, but it was like the grime oozed in from the garage outside and the rest of the truck stop. Levi had been frequenting the garage, nonetheless, ever since he was a teenager. His uncle religiously brought his own car there, and pounded it into Levi’s head that he should, too. They’d never fucked up, so he was going to keep it up.

Levi’s truck, his brand new fucking black 2010 Silverado, was  _already_  having transmission problems, at less than ten thousand miles. He refused to try and fix it himself, afraid he’d get too angry at a truck he’d already spent too much money on only to end up damaging it beyond repair.

He was lucky to be a regular customer, too, because the man behind the counter wasn’t offended anymore when he asked for the Clorox wipes he knew they stowed behind the counter to clean off the chair he chose.

He adjusted the sleeve of his shirt and stifled a sigh as the woman next to him moved to a different seat and then avoided eye contact with him from that point on.

She was the kind of woman that looked like she didn’t really belong in a place like this, anyway. Platinum hair, cat-eye glasses, snooty little tilted nose turned upwards. Her pretty little white shoes, white pantyhose and white skirt had little splatters of muddy water on them, likely due to the rain from earlier that morning. She looked at him like  _he_  was the dirty one. She’d really done nothing wrong to him, though, aside from the most unwelcomed stink-eye, but he’d live and he’d refrain from any IQ-challenging insults that wanted to pry themselves out of his mouth.

Levi prided himself in self-control, after all.

That was why, of course, one Eren Jaeger still wasn’t six feet underground in his Sunday’s best and, for once, combed hair.

“Levi, it’ll still be another thirty minutes,” the man behind the counter, a man named Gunther, told him, shooting an apologetic smile at him. All of the mechanics took turns sitting behind the counter and taking people’s money, but he did prefer when he got Gunther or Erd. “Maybe go to the shops next door? I know how much you hate the truck stop, but—“

“I’d rather slam my dick in a sliding door,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively at the idle mechanic.  “By the way, is your bathroom working yet?”

“Unfortunately not. We’ve all been going to the Travel Center’s bathroom lately. You can try that one, though.”

“Fuck.”

The platinum bitch across the room looked offended—although maybe constipated, or like she was thinking about the bathroom, too—by something, but Levi’s mind wasn’t willing to give her the time of day anymore. He begrudgingly opted for shuddering with disgust. The biggest mistake he’d ever made in his life was thinking that he could handle the truck stop bathroom.

“Hey, to their benefit, this is around the time they clean it every day,” Gunther offered. “It’ll be a  _little_  less shitty.”

“Truck stop bathrooms are never  _not_  shitty.”

Levi stood, though, fussing and grumbling as he left the small waiting area and through the door that connected the tiny room to the Travel Center next door. Upon entry, he could already smell the rancid scent of stereotypical truck-driving manbearpigs, shuffling around and stuffing their faces with greasy hamburgers and caffeine and whatever else in God’s name they could get their hands on.

In reality, the smell alone of the truck stop had imprinted his mind with bad memories of said manbearpigs, and he hadn’t had a good experience with them since.

No, to their credit, there were a couple of bearded men sitting at a table playing checkers, one woman sifting through the magazines, and then a couple of younger men, looking slightly more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed than expected of a seasoned truck driver who had long forgotten the buzz of a strong cup of truck stop coffee. One of the men actually smiled at him. Levi drew the conclusion that they could only be newbies.

Upon entering the grotesque, disheveled excuse for a bathroom, Levi realized three things in particular.

The first thing was that,  _holy sweet mother of Mary, they call this clean?_  There was dirt in places that dirt should never, ever be. There were splatters of unidentified liquids (?) on the walls, and even on the ceiling tiles. There was a hole in one wall, puffy pink insulation peeking out at him, and he was  _pretty_  damn sure he’d just seen some sort of vermin skitter away. There were discarded paper towels on the floor, ranging from around the bottom of the trash can, to the complete opposite side of the bathroom. One of the two urinals looked clogged. What the fuck was that sharpie doing on the floor in the corner?

The second thing was that the stalls looked like something you’d find in a macabre horror film. Slime, or some sort of sludge, clung to the edges of the seats—one of which had been left up ( _Seriously? There’s a fucking urinal right there._ ) and the other had traces of what he was going to assume was vomit). He could see mold biting at the caulking at the base of the toilets.

The third thing was the only thing that kept him from losing his breakfast, which consisted purely of coffee. There was a staggering number of phone numbers with vulgar invitations below them littering the stalls’ walls. Some of them looked like actual feminine handwriting, like a woman had dared to sneak into the cesspit in disguise as a bathroom just to write down her number for any man who might treat her as shitty as the bathroom was. Most of them just looked like what any friendly, good-hearted trucker would do—give their favorite booty call a nice promotion.

Levi’s mind flickered back to the crumpled receipt, still regrettably sitting on his coffee table at home.

He’d meant to throw it away, really, but another part of him kept telling him he could use it for something. Maybe he  _would_  actually need Eren’s number later, or maybe someone else would. That was the innocent part of his mind, though. The innocent part of his mind had remembered the number, by some miracle.

His eyes found the sharpie in the corner, and then a blank spot on the stall walls.

_No._

He thought about Eren’s shit-eating grin, and the fact that he lied about the Coinstar outside of the convenience store in order to make him count his gratuitous pile of change.

_Oh, fuck yeah. That isolated pubic hair is in for it._

Levi offered a silent prayer for the innocent part of his mind and extracted the knowledge of Eren’s phone number for the sinful part. It wasn’t like much of the innocent knowledge he acquired stayed that way for very long anyway, and definitely not in situations like this. This was a unique situation that he was in, of course, but revenge was always a meal he was willing to sit down for and enjoy with a nice glass of wine, if he could afford wine. He had a bottle stored in the pantry, a gift from his landlord, which was perfect for tonight.

The process of writing Eren’s phone number on the empty spot was a lengthy process and took many, many paper towels from the dispenser. One paper towel was used to open the cabinet below the sink and pull out the closest and least shady-looking bottle of all-purpose cleaner. He sprayed the area he was going to write on, and another paper towel was used to wipe it off (which, in the end, brought off much of the other markings in the area, leaving him quite the space to work and draw attention to). He used another, even after it was clean, just to be sure. Of course, there was the paper towel he used to pick up the sharpie from the floor, and the one he used to clean it off after spraying  _it_  as well.

You could never be too careful in public bathrooms.

He was careful with his penmanship as he scrawled out the number he’d (accidentally) memorized. Just the number alone wasn’t enough, he realized. He felt a sense of duty to Eren, like perhaps he owed him something, props for the good prank. So, he did exactly that.

‘Call me for a good time. Best fuck in town!’

That would suffice, he decided as he put the sharpie down onto the corner of the sink counter. Levi accepted that it wasn’t his best, but he probably didn’t need to exert his best for truckers. From his experience and from what he had heard, they really weren’t picky in this area.

“Did you fall in?” Gunther asked when Levi returned, eyebrow cocked. His eyes found Levi’s hands, red from what he assumed was vigorous hand washing. “I figured you wouldn’t go to any of the stores or fast food places. They just get worse, the further you go. Was the bathroom that bad?”

“It wasn’t as bad as I imagined,” Levi replied, crossing his legs and picking up a magazine from the little table. The platinum bitch was gone, thank God, which meant the waiting room was his for the time being. Nobody but Gunther was around to judge him for indulging in motorcycles he couldn’t afford yet. “Surprisingly satisfactory, really.”

 

[--X--]

 

“Hey baby, I heard ye’ know how t’ have a good time.”

Eren’s eyebrows shot so far up his forehead the cashier in front of him stopped scanning his items just to make sure he was alright. The gruff voice that came from his phone, thankfully held securely against his ear and  _not_  on speaker phone, let out a soft chuckle at Eren’s silence.

“I’m sorry, what the—“ He reminded himself, only temporarily, of the presence of other people. “What? Who are you?”

There was a pause, and Eren was almost a little too hopeful that the man on the other end had hung up. He could hear rustling, though, and  _oh God what was that noise—_

“Didn’t know ye’ were a guy, but tha’s fine. Handwriting seemed kinda girly, and you sound cute.”

Eren’s face was most definitely burning. No, he doubted it was just his face, as he could feel heat spread from his cheeks to his ears and down to his neck. He had a sneaking suspicion that this was some sort of joke being played on him by Jean. Had he handed out his phone number out of malice or something? He didn’t really remember doing anything particularly revenge-worthy to him lately, but he recalled a few incidents where whether he’d done anything or not hadn’t mattered. This was stupid, though, and couldn’t compare to the time he’d found everything in his bedroom flipped upside down a couple of years ago. Jean’s pranks hadn’t lived up to their hype since that.

“Okay,” he said, drawing in a steadying breath. “Who gave you my number?”

“It’s out there for th’ world, sweetheart. Listen, if ye’ ain’t gonna do anything, leave ye’ be. Maybe I’ll call back later.”

The line went dead.

Eren had to fight every instinct to not take his frustration out on the poor cashier as he paid and took his bags. Every few minutes, he looked down at his phone on the walk home, and about halfway to the complex, it rang again. He stared at the unknown number, debating on actually answering this one or just letting it go to voicemail to see what the caller would do. At the same time, though, he was pretty sure all he would get was heavy breathing, and a similar voice, if not the same one.

Eventually he did answer, raising a grocery bag laden arm to accept the call and hold it up to his ear.

“What?”

“Heard you were the best fuck in town,” a voice informed him, and this time he was a little confused to find that it was younger, much less rough. “Care to prove it for me?”

Eren grimaced. He wasn’t pleased to have gone from ‘knowing how to have a good time’ to being ‘the best fuck in town’. Most times he would pounce right back and boast that yes, he was the best fuck in town (he wasn’t), but that was usually to look good.

He didn’t need to look good to a complete stranger over the phone.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but there’s been some kind of fuck up,” Eren started. He almost stopped, but only almost, because he really needed to find out where people were getting his number, even if that meant he had to push back his embarrassment. “The last asshole just hung up. Can you please tell me where you guys keep getting my number from?”

There was a pause long enough that Eren ripped his phone away from his ear to make sure he hadn’t missed the cut-off noise. Proving to still be on the line, he pressed the phone back to his ear just in time to catch the last of soft laughter.

“You poor darling,” the man said softly, affectionately, and it made Eren shudder in the most unpleasant way. “Seems like someone got a hold of your number and scribbled it on a stall in the truck stop bathroom.”

“You’ve got to be fucking joking.”

 

[--X--]

 

Eren looked absolutely miserable. His face was flushed and he was gripping his phone with a death grip that made Levi wonder how the poor fragile smart phone hadn’t simply exploded yet. It had been at least six hours since he’d put the number on the truck stop stall, and about five since he’d returned to the complex with his freshly-running truck. Two hours since he’d started his usual Sunday meal, and thirty minutes since he’d finished it up.

Now he stood with two cheap food storage boxes generously filled with the meatloaf and mashed potatoes that had been requested. He was watching Eren, of course, disheveled and flustered.

What caught Levi’s attention the most happened to be the flimsy grocery bags he had hanging from both arms that swung as he headed for the stairs, clearly visible from Levi’s place just a few paces away from his front door. He could see imprints of the items inside; instant noodles, Hungryman TV dinners. He saw a bag of Cheetos and he was definitely sure he identified beer in one of the bags, if not more. Levi was sure he planned on eating some of  _that garbage_  he was about to haul into his room. On a whim, he decided to stop the poor fool while he still could.

“Yo, shitdick.”

Levi wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when Eren jerked a little and spun around to look at him. His amusement must’ve shown on his face, because Eren scowled. He spoke before the brunette could.

“Put your bags of garbage up and come back down here,” he said, raising one of the food storage boxes. “I have extras. Kind of a tradition on Sundays. Wash your hands, for the love of all that is holy,  _please_. Numerous times if you must. I’m gonna drop these off to Erwin and Marco, so just hang tight when you get done.”

He decided against waiting to see if Eren was going to do as he said or not and headed straight for the receptionist’s desk.

_He’d be crazy not to, at least. Asshole can’t pass up a home-made meal._

Marco was still behind the desk, shuffling around with a few payment plans and bills he still wanted to get sorted out before he retreated up to his apartment, as he’d explained when Levi had wandered out while the food was cooking. The young man was wrapped up in a cardigan, claiming that, despite the heat, Erwin always kept it a little too cold in the lobby for his taste. His freckled cheeks drew up as he smiled eagerly at the sight of food. He straightened up, placing the papers down on the counter and clasping his fingers together on the desk in front of him.

“You’re a saint,” Marco said softly, accepting the container when it was offered to him. “Erwin has told me about your meatloaf a couple of times, but this is the first time I’m getting to try it. Bet it’ll be as good as he says.”

“Don’t have to butter me up, Marco,” he stated. If there was a hint of affection to his tone, he wasn’t going to admit to it. “You’re still getting dinner next Sunday, too, whether you pull out the sweet words or not.”

Marco laughed and smiled, embarrassed. He wished another thanks to Levi as he retreated back into Erwin’s office.

Said tall, blonde asshole was leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, feet kicked up onto his completely clear desk. He smiled, a little too friendly, a little too dazzling, when Levi dropped the container down on the desk in front of him and crossed his arms over his chest. He shot the taller man a look that practically screamed,  _this is all your fault, you annoyingly pretty bastard. You’re going to pay._

“What did I do?” Erwin asked, raising his hands and grinning now. “Really, usually I have an idea when you stomp in here.”

“First of all, are you, like, working that poor kid out there to death or something?” Levi asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Second, I’m just gonna blame you for the fact that Jaeger’s about to eat food I actually worked hard to make, like you and Marco are.” Erwin opened his mouth. “Shut up. I’m aware it’s my own fault. Don’t tell me.”

“You do these things to yourself.”

“I said shut up.”

“You know I’m no good at doing what you tell me.”

“I know.”

“How’s the kid handling the whole phone number business?” Erwin sat up straight in his chair, pulling his legs from his desk and sliding his food over to himself. “That was pretty damn harsh. Does he even know you did it?”

“I doubt it, but I have a feeling he might catch on. He knows he deserves it,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. “And as for how he’s handling it—“

“Fuck!”

Levi blinked once at the swearing coming from the lobby. It definitely wasn’t Marco; the guy had never uttered a single vulgarity, as far as Levi knew. Maybe he did in privacy, but even when he was frustrated, he’d never heard him swear. No, that was most definitely Eren’s voice, and Levi was lucky enough to poke his head out of the office to catch him turning his phone off and viciously throwing it down onto the lobby’s couch.  He bit back a snort at Eren’s disgruntled look, and the way he stumbled to apologize for freaking Marco out.

“Ah, this kid,” he murmured to himself, shooting a look back to Erwin. “How the hell do you choose who stays in this complex, anyway? Luck of the draw?”

“Something like that.”

 

[--X--]

 

 _This is weird as fuck,_  Eren decided, shifting in his chair.  _Why am I here again?_

_Ah, right, the promises of free food always lure me places I really shouldn’t be. This is too high up on my list of places I really shouldn’t be, though. Fuck._

“So, what’s on the menu?” he asked. His mind was screaming at him to leave, but no, this was going to be fine. The food was definitely not poisoned.

“Oh, you know. Liver, fava beans and a nice chianti.”

 “I should hope it’s not, like, Erwin’s liver or something,” Eren murmured, chuckling quietly. The little joke made him noticeably relax and  _why the fuck am I so tense around him anyway?_  No, he decided it was probably the way his eyes were or something. “Or is that your way of telling me that you’re going to kill me after this and go all Hannibal Lecter on me?”

“I am definitely going to go all Hannibal Lecter on you.”

A plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes that smelled and  _looked_  so good he could shove his face into them was slid in front of him. Levi held a fork out to him, but pulled it back out of Eren’s grasp when he reached for it.

“You washed your hands?”

Eren sighed, frowning at Levi.

“I washed my hands, dammit.”

“Good boy.”

Eren snatched the fork, ignoring Levi’s low chuckle. Immediately, like he was afraid of Levi taking the plate away from him or refusing him the fork once again, he shoveled the food into his mouth. After a comment by the shorter man regarding his apparent desperate  _need_  to choke himself to death on mashed potatoes, resulting in the most embarrassing death in human history, he slowed down to taste the food. It was good, even better than he’d expected. Looking at Levi, he’d take him to be the kind of person, like himself, who ate whatever the hell was easiest to come up with. And, of course, the look around the pristine apartment had informed him that this man had a  _major_  case of OCD.

“It’s actually really good,” he hummed, taking a few more bites. “Shit, don’t tell my mom, but it’s better than hers’.”

“Ah, yeah, by the way, Eren,” Levi murmured, leaning back and sipping on a glass of wine. “The whole phone thing. Yeah. That was my fault. Sorry.”

“ . . . Your meatloaf is fucking terrible.”


	4. Respect Your Local Sex Workers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi and Eren are cheap bastards, and poor, sweet Marco misunderstands entirely (although not entirely).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter filled me with so much second-hand embarrassment. 
> 
> SORRY so much for updating every two or three days sighs shit happens  
> NO MORE SAYING I'M GONNA DO SHIT, DAMN SON. 
> 
> [whispers] thank you my darling Octopies for being such a wonderful beta I love you and thank you all for the wonderful comments that make me cry with the happies
> 
> boywitch.tumblr.com !

 

 

Peace was nice, Levi decided. He also decided that the ‘was’ part really needed to be emphasized and stressed to its limit. As was the way of the beast, of course, rearing its ugly head, snarling and curling its lips back to show teeth that belonged to an owner that had neglected the need to schedule a dentist appointment, let alone pick up a tooth brush, for ten years at the least. The metaphor was bad, and probably a little over-exaggerated, but Levi was feeling prone to the melodramatic lately. There was something about the company he started keeping, although it was better than in the very beginning, that brought it out of him, like a defense mechanism. He didn’t know what it was defending him from, but he assured himself that he was on the right track towards finding out.

Life _was_ good. He started reading books that he’d wanted to read for quite a long time, setting aside about two hours every day to make substantial dents with a special gift from the heavens called ‘speed reading’.

It was weird, but he invited Eren to his apartment two times in the week and a half that had passed since the truck stop phone number incident—one time to complain about the inhuman noises Eren tended to make, and the second time to enjoy, of course, Sunday dinner. Surprisingly, Eren had shown up. The complaining of the first encounter had turned into them just _talking_ , and Levi determined that that was weird, too.

Eren was weird.

The young man had two main modes, with several mini-middle-modes in between. Mode A was excited, pumped and motivated beyond belief. Mode B was angry, irritable and, of course, probably just as an aftershock of whatever late puberty he was still trying to successfully survive through, moody. Relatively, he was weird because he left his front door unlocked almost all of the time, and sometimes even forgot to lock it when he left. He was weird because he refused to toast his poptarts, and Levi couldn’t remember how he found out about that one. He was weird because he smiled at things Levi didn’t think needed to be smiled at, and then only smiled more when he pointed that out.

Eren was especially weird with the way he seemed so adamant in getting Levi’s attention at times. If he tried to get a rise out of Levi, he wouldn’t leave until he got what he wanted (or until Levi kicked him out, or until Levi slammed a door in his face, or maybe even until Levi threatened to hand his number out again, after the brunette had changed his phone number). In the last couple of days, too, if Levi made the mistake of meeting turquoise eyes with his own, Eren immediately struck up a conversation or said, per usual, whatever the hell was on his mind.

It was weird, because Levi wasn’t used to being sought out for no apparent reason. When people came to find him, or purposely looked for him, they needed or wanted something. Eren had gotten used to finding him for the most ridiculous reasons.

Levi was getting used to him, though, slowly but surely.

By Wednesday, the twenty-sixth, Levi was confident that he had successfully ended the little strife of who-could-piss-the-other-off-most that Eren had started. He’d only retaliated once, but he hoped, almost _prayed,_ that would be enough to make Eren realize that he really had no chance against him. He concluded that Eren would have to be out of his mind to strike back after that.

And, of course, he had a gut feeling, when his doorbell rang after sundown, that striking back was exactly what Eren was doing.

He sighed and marked his place in the worn, well-read copy of a thriller he’d picked up at a secondhand media store down onto his coffee table. He regretted opening his front door without sparing a glance through the peep hole immediately. He fought every instinct to just slam the door, lock it and return to his book. He fought hard, because that was the most well-advised instinct reaction he’d had in years, and he’d regret that, along with opening the door in the first place, for years to come, he just knew.

His gut had not betrayed him.

 

[--X--]

 

Eren recognized that Levi was weird in his own ways. And, of course, ‘in his own ways’ meant in a _lot_ of ways.

Levi drank his coffee black with two sugars, and that was just _disgusting._ Levi sat below the eucalyptus, reading weird occult-looking books (he really had no idea what kind of books they were). Levi stared at him with the same unwavering stoic and bored expression that, in truth, made him nervous but also made him want to buck back, but then would turn around and do something caring like the dinners on Sundays, and he’d caught him setting out the dish of food for the neighborhood’s militia of cats. Levi charged into his house one day, already on a roll about how unnecessarily noisy Eren’s footsteps were, only to stop and clean Eren’s living room (which Levi told him not to tell anyone about afterward).

Levi was especially weird because of the small smile that Eren just _swore_ he saw, the one that would appear once in a great while, the one that would disappear as soon as Eren thought he saw it. Eren started referring to Levi’s smile as ‘The Unicorn’, a joke that only Erwin and Marco got. It pissed Levi off to no end when they refused to explain the joke to him.

(This, of course, brought Levi to tell all three of them to go to hell before stomping off, which they knew was complete bullshit, because who could tell Marco to go to hell and mean it?)

Levi wasn’t really the big bad wolf he came off as.

It had taken Eren two weeks and a day to figure out how to talk to Levi, to figure out how to work around him and not figuratively (or literally) get his balls chopped off—although that was still questionable. But, of course, he decided that what was happening wasn’t quite enough. He wanted something else, something different from the usual little rise he could get out of Levi nearly every single time he spoke to him. In hindsight, everything he did was a pretty terrible idea and that should’ve been sign enough for him to just quit while he was ahead, but no. Maybe it was a sense of needing to finish what he started that had made him do it. Then again, Levi was always telling him that if he were any less intelligent, he’d have to water him twice a week.

As he stood in his tiny kitchenette, leaning up against the bar counter, he listened to the foreboding sound of the door belonging to the apartment below slam, and then stomping up the stairs towards his floor, he believed that maybe, just maybe, Levi was right about something.

It was worth it to watch his front door swing open and be gifted with the sight of a much disheveled Levi. His face was red with, probably, anger, hair messy like he’d just gotten out of bed, right fist clenched around a poor piece of paper that was crying for help if you listened well enough. His eyes were positively murderous, exactly what Eren had been expecting. He had just enough time to thank his lucky stars that it wasn’t the scary calm again.

He only had _just_ enough time, because Levi was barreling straight for him.

Eren let out some embarrassing rendition of an exhilarated squeal as he tripped over his socked feet to slide around the bar and brace himself on the other side. Instead of stopping to see which way he might try to run next, Levi just kept going, swinging up and over the bar to land right next to Eren. The brunette tripped over himself in another attempt to get away, feet slipping on the tile of the kitchenette and allowing Levi just enough time to grab the front of his shirt with both hands, haul him to his feet and slam his back up against the pantry door.

“Wow, okay,” Eren gasped out, wincing at the pain in his back, trying to ignore the way Levi’s hands pressed up to his chest. “You are _definitely_ stronger than you look, you know?”

It was like throwing wood to a flame. Levi hissed and pulled him away from the pantry door, only to slam him up against it again. Eren was sure he was some sort of masochist at this point, because Levi’s reaction was thus far most definitely worth it. Aside from the aching pain in his back that threatened him with a very restless night of sleep, he took in how close Levi’s face was to his and thought that it wasn’t that bad.

“Eren,” Levi said, carefully pronouncing the young man’s name with a deadly calm vigor. _Oh shit, there it is._ “Eren, please, do explain to me why there are three scantily clad women, and _one flamboyant man_ waiting outside of my apartment, hm?”

The shorter man’s eyes narrowed at Eren as he grinned, almost sheepishly.

“I didn’t know which team you played for?”

The corners of Levi’s mouth twitched, and Eren thought maybe he was going to smile or something, but then he was slammed back against the pantry door again. He had to clamp his eyes shut as a little pain stung them, and he missed any chance of seeing what developments were being made in the area of Levi’s mouth. By the time he managed to pry his eyes open again, Levi was straight-faced again, eyes as cold as ever. Eren regretted letting him compose himself.

“Do you realize they’re trying to charge me seven hundred bucks, you titillated mouth breather?” At Eren’s quizzical look and arched eyebrow, he thrust the strangled piece of paper at his face. “One seventy-five each, dumb shit. If you’re gonna order house-call strippers for a man, have the decency to pay for them.”

Eren’s veneer broke like glass struck by stone. He tried, tried really hard, to not relent to his urges, but the distressed and annoyed look on Levi’s face, his messy hair, the small wrinkle in his shirt that looked like maybe someone had pulled it; every factor destroyed the face he’d been trying to pull to make Levi think he was taking this seriously (he definitely wasn’t). The giggles came relentlessly, bubbling out through his lips even though he struggled to keep them back. With every little bit of laughter, Levi looked like he was ready to either kill him or let him go (there was a very thin line between the two). In between gasps for breath and giggles at Levi’s muddled expression, he managed, “I-I’m so broke . . . I’m considering singing show tunes in drag at a bar for tips.”

There was silence from Levi as he stared at Eren, face entirely void of emotion. That is, until a smirk cracked at the corners of his lips, he averted his gaze and his shoulders shook like he was trying too hard not to laugh.

“Now’s really not the time to make me picture you in a gaudy cocktail dress, sashaying your sorry ass across a stage. I have four angry strippers outside of my door demanding money.”

Eren snorted embarrassingly loud before outright laughing.

He bit down on his lower lip to try and stop himself, but as soon as he heard Levi let a little laugh of his own escape, he didn’t have to. He fell silent, staring at the older man in front of him, curiosity and awe (and something else) bubbling up in his stomach. Levi was laughing. Levi was barely inches away from him. Levi’s hands were relaxing and sliding down his chest before they fell limp at his sides. Levi was an odd sort of mesmerizing. He didn’t know what he was hoping for when steel-colored eyes met his, with the way they flickered with an unspoken question and then a weird kind of recognition or acknowledgment like they did the first they they’d met. He was entirely fine with Levi not stepping back, but when he did, Eren said nothing.

Levi cleared his throat and turned his gaze away again. There was still a hint of a smirk at his lips that Eren was happy to still see.

“In all seriousness, what are we gonna do about them? There’s no way in fuck I’m coughing up seven hundred bucks for a mediocre strip tease.”

“Well, we _could_ pay them, you know, split the cost—“

“No way in hell, kid.”

“Come on! We could have a nice show.”

“What happened to being broke?”

Eren stopped to think about that one, before nodding and holding his hands up in surrender.

“You got me there. I definitely don’t have three fifty to cough out on something like that.”

Levi hummed in agreement, stepping back to lean against the bar. Eren stretched, testing the now-sore muscles in his back. He hoped that if he worked them throughout the day he’d be able to fall asleep just fine. He stopped stretching, though, when Levi looked him over. Maybe he was taking in the damage, or maybe he was just being critical as always. The latter was the most likely.

“I could always put on a show for you,” Eren teased, smirking. “Or . . . Vice versa.”

Predictably, he received a harsh punch to the bicep, sending him stumbling back into the pantry door and, _Jesus, I forgot he was strong._ He otherwise got nothing in response, other than a curt glare and something that sounded like a ‘harrumph’.

“I guess we could just hang out up here and wait for them to run off,” Eren offered softly, rubbing his arm to sooth the pain. He could hear them talking, with how quiet it was in the apartment now. They were saying something about Levi’s height, something about doubting his dick could be very big. “They’ll probably get tired of waiting eventually.”

“Bet they catch enough shit as it is,” Levi mused, despite the insults they could hear. “As fuck awful as we both know it is to work in retail, especially having to clean the shit-palaces they call public bathrooms, imagine having to go to stranger’s houses to strip.”

“True . . .” Eren hummed, pursing his lips. “Then go tell them it was a mistake?”

“ . . . I really don’t want to have to talk to them again.”

“Waiting it out it is. It’s too bad, though. I spent a long time looking for house-calls that didn’t require payment up front.”

 

[--X--]

 

“So, all I’m really hearing right now is that you turned down strippers.”

“Oh, shut the hell up. They were too damn expensive.”

“You turned down strippers.”

Levi huffed from his spot in Erwin’s desk chair. He had taken over the man’s office while he stepped out to say something to Marco, only to return to it mostly clean and Levi sitting in his chair, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wound around his legs. Erwin was forced to take the chair in front of his desk, lounging a little uncomfortably. Levi could tell by the look on his face that he’d never quite realized how terribly uncomfortable the shitty chair was. _Probably thought I was bullshitting when I complained._

“I have to hand it to the kid, though,” Levi said, twirling Erwin’s favorite pen in his fingers like some sort of wand. “That’s something I would expect from _me_ , instead of something lame like that first stunt he pulled. Help me come up with something to get back at him with.”

“I am not getting in the middle of your shit storm of a war.” Erwin frowned and stretched out his legs, shifting for a more comfortable position. “All you talk about anymore is Eren. Eren’s noisy, Eren’s stupid, Eren’s teeth are too straight.”

“They are. He said he never wore braces.”

He worked hard to keep his words the same as always—calm, cool and collected, accompanied by a disinterested look on his face. After a not-so-subtle look from the blonde across from them, Levi grumbled and shrugged.

“He’s like a walking close-call with natural selection; it’s fascinating,” he tried. It didn’t work. Levi just received a disbelieving look. “Come on. He makes me believe in reincarnation, because nobody could become _that_ stupid throughout the span of one lifetime.”

Erwin rolled his eyes.

“I’m just trying to say that you seem to be paying more attention to him than you normally would with any other person,” the blonde explained. He shifted again. “And don’t pull this ‘I have to because he lives above me’ bullshit, because you’ve ignored your neighbors up until this point.”

“I have not.”

“Name _one_ person that lives in a surrounding apartment that isn’t Eren.”

Levi tried to remember. He remembered a face or two, but to be honest, he wasn’t even sure if the person in the apartment directly next to him still lived there, or if the old man in the apartment across from his was even alive anymore. The only person he’d ever cared to speak to, and that was on very rare occasions, was Old Woman Robertson when she lived in Eren’s apartment. If he saw someone else wandering around the complex, he didn’t bother to speak to them. Being the least social complex-dweller was having his drawbacks, he realized, because Erwin had a point. _Hate it when he’s right._

Of course, instead of answering, he shot a glare at Erwin and stared up at the ceiling. After nearly dropping Erwin’s pen twice, he tossed it down onto the table and sighed. The sounds of chatter sounded from outside of the office, the lobby bustling with life something terrible for a measly Wednesday evening after sun-down. It was that time when some were coming back from church, stopping by Marco’s desk to throw some sort of greeting at him, or be one of the last to pick up or pay their bills.

He eventually pried himself out of Erwin’s chair and wandered over to the office door, for peeking purposes, of course. He peered through the small window in the office door, scanning the current inhabitants of the lobby.

Nothing was out of place. There was a small herd of women standing close to the main door, one holding a baby. He watched as a few people stopped by Marco’s desk to drop off envelopes or pick some up. There were a few kids, probably belonging to some of the women in the herd, running around, roughhousing, being yelled at accordingly. And then there was Eren, leaned up against Marco’s desk, talking to him. No, teasing him was more like it from the looks of things. Eren’s posture was playful, and he gave a gentle mock punch to Marco’s arm. He said something that made Marco flush and Eren leaned a little too close for a normal, innocent conversation—

“ _Hoooly_ shit, Erwin,” he drawled, staring at the scene. He waved the man over vigorously, almost turning around to pull him over, himself, until he heard the uncomfortable chair squeak with weight being relieved of it. “Erwin, he’s trying to flirt with Marco.”

Erwin was there in an instant, bending down to stare over Levi’s shoulder out the window.

Levi smirked as Erwin let out a low whistle at Eren’s awkward attempts at courting. They could both tell he’d never really done it before, because his face displayed the way he was mentally grappling for more material to use. They couldn’t tell what he was saying, but Levi was sure it filled Erwin with as much secondhand embarrassment as it did him.

“Marco’s never been good at turning people down.” Erwin raised an eyebrow, moving to get a better look. “Maybe we should stop Eren while he’s, uh . . . Ahead?”

Levi was struck with an inspiration that would’ve made Shakespeare cry with joy. Or regret everything.

“Couldn’t agree more.”

Levi stepped back and worked the silver ring off of his right middle finger. It was plain, and he’d only picked it up at some flea market (Hanji had an obsession, and Levi liked cheap shit) about two weeks before Eren showed up, but it was about to serve its greater purpose in life. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair.

He ignored the way Erwin hissed his name in some sort of second-thought warning, retracting his statement, and swung the door open. He pulled his best homicide face (because this was going to be so worth the hell of taking drama in high school and enduring four years of torment from his peers) and stomped over to Marco’s desk. The look on Eren’s face when he spotted him almost made him stop to make sure the poor kid hadn’t outright shit himself. He actually looked scared, intimidated. Levi liked to think that was because this time the tables had turned, and he had no idea what he did. The grin he’d gotten earlier in response to his charging forward could not be forgiven so easily.

“You’re a fucking pig, Eren Jaeger,” he growled out, louder than necessary, slamming his ring down on the desk in between Marco and Eren, harder than necessary. The brunette jumped and stumbled away from the desk, already holding his hands up and opening his mouth to try and compromise for whatever he thought he’d done wrong this time. Attention was being drawn to them. Levi would have to think and act quickly to pull this off. “I can’t fucking believe you! What, do you just flirt with everything that moves when you don’t think I’m looking?”

Eren’s eyes were comically wide, giant saucers that read just how terrified and confused he was. The whispers were already starting when he managed, “I—“

“I don’t want to hear it,” Levi snapped, sliding the ring over to Eren and pulling his hand back to officially show what it was. The herd had inched closer and were all leaning in different directions to see what it was. Even Marco stared down at it curiously, a glint of something like sympathy in his eyes. Eren tried to open his mouth again. “Shut it.” He did. “I don’t want to hear a single word from you; I don’t need your excuses.”

Passers-by stopped on their way back to their apartments on their way out the door, on their way to Marco’s desk, just to stare at the scene he’d caused. Levi opted for looking too-angry-to-cry-over-his-broken-heart instead of pulling out the water works. He’d never been good at making himself cry, and he didn’t want to fuck up now. He required applause for this performance, so it had to be perfect.

“You can keep your useless fucking ring, I don’t need it anymore.” He made his voice crack for effect. “And you can keep your ‘I love you’s and ‘Baby, I’m sorry’s to yourself, too, this time. Run away with Marco for all I fucking care! I’m done with you. We’re done.”

With probably a bit too much of an over-dramatic flourish, he spun around and stomped right for his apartment. Now that they had fallen quiet, the whispering had increased tenfold, volume rising to inside voices as they discussed the scene and analyzed it.

A woman from the herd shouted, “Good for you, babe!” and another called, “You tell him!”

_I’ll teach you to not pay for my strippers._

 

[--X--]

 

Levi’s door slammed shut and echoed throughout the lobby. Eren stood by Marco’s desk, staring down at the little plain ring, dumbstruck and speechless. His mind tripped grossly to catch up to him.

 _Did I just get dumped?_ He inwardly shook his head. _I think that would require an actual established relationship. Eren, he just publicly humiliated you. Eren, people are staring. Eren—_

“Eren.” Marco’s voice dragged him out of his little reverie and he stared over at him. Marco had an understanding smile on— _Shit, wait, what does he understand?_ —and a couple of fingers pushing the ring closer to Eren, until he was forced to pick it up. “Go talk to him. It’s alright.”

_Wait, no, no, no._

“I—uh—“

“Eren, really, it’s fine. Go talk to him. He’ll understand if you tell him it was a misunderstanding.”

Except it definitely wasn’t a misunderstanding, and he had definitely been trying to flirt with Marco (trying be keyword), but he realized that the freckled man wasn’t about to let him explain that without cutting him off and insisting he talk to Levi. He heard gentle nudges from the little cluster of women urging him to make things better and chose to ignore the castrating threats one of them threw at him. His face was burning with frustration and embarrassment and he was pretty sure he was going to go insane if he stayed out in the public eye like that much longer.

“Goddammit.”

He took off in a sprint towards the hallway that led to Levi’s apartment and his stairs, tuning out the hoots and whooping from the group of women, and even a few other passers-by. He fled up the stairs, shooting a glare at Levi’s door, as soon as he was out of their line of sight. 

Eren ducked into his apartment, shutting the door behind him and leaning up against it. Slowly, he slid down to the floor, his heart racing and his breath short. He opened his hand and glared down at the ring in his palm, making a mental note to throw it at Levi the next time he saw him. The desire for an actual revenge wasn’t present, though. Even though Levi had humiliated him, even though Levi had truly gotten back at him this time and this one wasn’t fixable by changing his phone number, there was no drive to really retaliate. There was just the ever-present urge to get Levi to look at him, to get Levi to laugh, to get Levi—

He realized what he was feeling was a craving for Levi’s attention like whiplash.  

Eren Jaeger craved Levi’s attention and he was going to get it somehow. 


	5. Of Understandings and Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren's revelations are never-ending, just like his and Levi's separate strings of bad ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO this chapter is substantially less exciting and funny than the last chapter, but heyoooooo. It's also longer, so is that a bonus???  
> May your Mondays (or Tuesdays?) be forever pleasant. 
> 
> (and as always, thank you to my betas and thank you aaaaaaall for such wonderful comments I love you all <3)  
> I HAVE A JOB INTERVIEW IN THE MORNIN', WISH ME LUCK
> 
> boywitch.tumblr.com !

 

Eren was not very eloquent, let alone awake, when he saw Levi again. He had managed, by some anti-miracle, to wake up thirty minutes late, _and_ trip in the shower, leaving him with a beautiful bruise on each of his arms, both already several shades of deep blue and purple.

During his first trip out the front door on this beautiful, oh-so-lucky Thursday morning, he’d realized he put his shirt on inside-out. The second trip, he realized he forgot his keys on the table. Now on the third trip, Levi was sitting outside, under the eucalyptus, sipping coffee out of a Styrofoam cup. Eren wasn’t ready to see Levi yet. In fact, he was about ten thousand leagues away from being ready to see Levi face-to-face, but there he was, dumbstruck outside of the apartment complex, running late for work, Levi’s ring buried deep in his pocket where he’d put it before leaving his apartment the first time without a second though. He didn’t flinch when Levi called out something to him that sounded suspiciously like, “You look like a bag of smashed ass, but good morning,” but he did when their eyes met.

The most logical thing to do was to fish Levi’s ring out of his pocket and throw it at him, like he’d imagined doing about forty times while trying to fall asleep. He did. He threw it with a liveliness he didn’t really feel, and it whizzed past the older man’s head and landed somewhere in the grass behind him.

“I thought about keeping it,” he yelled to Levi as he started down the sidewalk. “But the idea of throwing it at you was too tempting!”  

“Your aim is absolute shit, try harder next time.”

_Should’ve just thrown it away._

Levi, of course, was acting like he had done absolutely nothing wrong the previous day, like the bastard he was. He was frustratingly good at making himself look innocent, giving Eren a listless little wave that mirrored his stoic expression. Eren quickly decided that it was entirely unfair for Levi to be able to sit there with a clear conscience, still wearing whatever he wore to bed. He had no problems to worry about currently; Eren was the one taking the butt of the joke. He was now dubbed the bad guy, he was sure. He wouldn’t be surprised if he came home to Marco informing him that the group of women that had supported Levi so much during the scene started a ‘book club’ just to talk about them. They seemed like the kind of people to do that.

He would’ve assumed that Levi had actually forgotten all about it, but the man had to go off and open his mouth. “Have a _fabulous_ day at work, _darling._ ”

Eren turned, just for a moment, to shoot him a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Thank you, _love munchkin_ ,” he replied, before he could even think to stop himself. He bypassed his frustrations and confusions just for Levi for this one. “I’ll give you the night of your life when I get back!”

He barely heard Levi’s snort, but he took it as a wordless victory, a way of saying, “Alright, you’ve either gotten me beat or I want to save that poor old man who keeps staring at us from any more torture.” He preferred the former, having Levi beat.

Eren broke into a jog not long after, moving past the morning walkers and the broken militia of cats (they only seemed to conspire in one place under trees in the warm afternoons). He was lucky to make it to work only about five minutes late, much of his lost time made up with his relatively fast paced commute, even despite Levi’s distractions. Jean tried to stop him to ask him why he was late, but he just pushed past the bastard, ignoring every word that came out of his mouth, in favor of clocking in.

“You look like shit, dude,” Jean reminded him, eyebrows risen, once he was clocked in and out at the front with him. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“Almost didn’t wake up at all,” he muttered, picking up the stack of game cases that needed to be stickered and put out on display. “I guess my alarm didn’t go off or something. Almost wish I had just slept in so late I didn’t have to show up here and deal with your hideous face.”

“Harsh.” Jean rolled his eyes, fishing out another stack of cases for him. He dropped them over by Eren’s work station and smiled innocently. “That would just mean more work for you to do tomorrow.”

“Do you even fucking do anything around here?”

“He stands around with his thumb up his ass, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Eren snorted at Annie’s bit of input from the office, much to Jean’s dismay. The taller man muttered under his breath, something about them being in league, teaming up against him. A pattern of Eren getting assistance from Annie—who was probably working through the massive stack of returns they had left on her desk for her the afternoon before while she was off doing God knows what—in picking on Jean in between actually doing his work continued for a while, or at least until someone sheepishly squeezed through the front door. Eren glanced up from his pile of covers and stickers to see Marco standing in front of him, hands behind his back, with an ever-present apologetic smile.

“I guess you dropped your wallet in the lobby,” he said softly, already holding the folded, warn leather wallet out to Eren. “Levi found it. He told me not to give it to you and something about you making him search for half an hour in the grass for his ring, but . . .”

Eren felt himself sag a little, before patting his back pockets in search of the wallet that was most definitely being held out to him. He let out a huff and accepted it gratefully. He tried to be inconspicuous as he unfolded it and peeked in to make sure Levi hadn’t taken any of his bills after the ring stunt earlier. Everything was still in place and intact.

“You’re literally an angel,” breathed Eren. “Thanks, man . . . I guess I’m just having a really off day. I really appreciate it.”  

Marco laughed softly. “Who wouldn’t have an off day after something last night? I’m sure you’re still shaken up.”

_Oh Christ, he still thinks me and Levi were a thing._

“Uh, Marco—“

“Shh.” He hushed Eren, holding a finger up to his own lips and winking. “You two better work things out and get back together. I’ve never seen him get so upset over someone.”

 _It was an act, that’s why,_ he wanted to say, but _fuck_ he was already leaving and waving goodbye to both Eren and Jean. He realized, after the door swung shut after Marco, that he really didn’t have a choice anymore. Nobody was going to listen to him on the subject, it was almost better pretending like he was Levi’s beloved ex-fiancé, and they were going through a pathetic rough patch.

It upset him, of course, the concept of that whole non-existent relationship. He knew that Levi wouldn’t deny it for the sake of theatrics and for the sake of giving the women in the apartment something to gossip about, but he was almost upset by the fact that it would never be a reality. It was a huge joke to Levi.

_Why the fuck does that bother me so much?_

He might want Levi’s attention, and maybe he didn’t mind him being close, or being touched by him, but it wasn’t like he . . . Wanted . . . Levi . . .

“Fuck,” he hissed, burying his face in his hands. “Fuck no.”

Jean’s palm smacking up against his back was the only thing that brought him to. His glare faltered at the way Jean’s eyes were alight and lively, excited about something really stupid, he was sure.

“Dude, how do you know that guy?” he asked, and if Eren hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought Jean was _sparkling_. He was right about thinking it was something stupid. “He’s _adorable_. Come on, you have to introduce me.”

“I am not introducing Marco to a creep like you.”

“Guess I’ll just have to show up at your apartment complex, myself.”

Eren groaned. It definitely wasn’t his day.

“By the way, what’s that about this Levi guy?” Jean asked, pulling Eren’s attention back to him. He’d set aside the Marco topic for later, probably, and Eren wasn’t looking forward to the incessant questions that would come. “You getting’ laid or something?”

“Definitely not,” Eren muttered. He inwardly kicked himself when the thought, _But I wouldn’t mind it,_ slipped through his defenses. “We’re kind of . . . At war, I guess you could say. He was a really big asshole when we first met, so I did something to get back at him, and he did something to get back at me, and it just keeps going. Last night he acted like he ‘dumped’ me in front of a huge crowd, Marco included. Now everyone’s pretty sure we’re lovers and we’re trying to work through a fight.”

He purposely bit back the fact that the entire ‘fight’ had started because he’d been putting his lame-ass moves on Marco. With the way Jean was suddenly smitten for him, he wasn’t chancing touching that. Jean could get violent when he was jealous. He wasn’t fickle, though, which was the weirdest part. He’d known Jean for far too long in his life for his liking, and Jean rarely ever had it bad for anyone. Part of him wanted him to just settle down with someone at last, but the other part of him doubted the possibility. In his opinion, Jean was the biggest ass in existence.

He regretted talking about Levi and the public humiliation immediately, because the biggest ass in existence was lit up all over again.

“Dude’s a genius! Holy shit, think he’ll give me pointers?”

“You don’t want pointers from him, Jean. He’ll just piss you off, and then you’ll get your ass handed to you.”

“I could take him, I bet.”

“For some reason, I feel like he could take you out in a heartbeat.”

Mischief. There was mischief in Jean’s eyes. That was the farthest thing from a good sign.

“Don’t glorify him so much,” Jean sang. “Someone’s gonna think you’ve got the hots for him.”

“Shut the fuck _up_ , Jean.”

 

[--X--]

 

On Saturday, June twenty-ninth, Eren’s feet dragged him to the convenience store at noon sharp and, despite his best efforts, would otherwise let him do anything but leave. He stood there stupidly, looking through one of the many large windows that made up the front of the store. Levi was definitely standing behind the counter, the store empty and completely his for the time being. He didn’t notice Eren standing outside, though, and instead looked very, very interested in a nonexistent dirt spot on the counter. He was scrubbing it so vigorously that Eren nearly waited for it to spontaneously combust. _Cute._

_Wait, no, shit—fuck! Stop that, Eren._

He willed himself to step into the store, not really sure if he wanted to talk to Levi or not. He did, he decided, there was no denying it. It didn’t matter what about himself or his (ever so important) feelings he’d discovered, he could still piss Levi off and there was something gratifying in that.

Levi gave him a side glance before abruptly ducking behind the counter. Eren could still see a tuft of black hair peeking up from behind the worn wood. He would’ve laughed if he weren’t so confused, but Levi popped up after approximately fifteen seconds of hiding to explain.

“Sorry, kid, thought you were going to through more of my belongings at me,” he said, flashing the most plastic smile he could muster. _He’d probably be beautiful if he actually smiled._ “One hell of an arm, but shitty aim, you know?”

Eren rolled his eyes and neared the counter. “Technically speaking, you did ‘give it back’ to me. I think I should’ve kept it. Made you wonder what happened to it.”

“Ah, but the book club would’ve been so disappointed to think that the engagement was off.”

“They actually formed a book club?”

“I don’t know, but we were both thinking it.”

Eren paused, just for a second, to acknowledge the fact and nod in recognition. One thing he’d noticed about Levi was that he tended to give things nicknames and stick to them. He was apparently everything under the rainbow that could possible come off as insulting, even though Levi hardly ever put actual venom behind his words. He’d referred to the group of women that seemed absolutely conjoined to the hip that had been staring at them on Wednesday ‘the herd’ when they had been passing in the lobby on Friday, and Eren thought that was suitable. Levi also had a funny habit of referring to his employees as his ‘squad’. When they did get the chance to sit back and talk civilly, little quirks, like this and the way he’d tap his fingers to a non-existent song, surfaced.

Levi, of course, was immaculate. His house was immaculate, his posture was immaculate, and the ridiculously too-big-for-him truck Eren had found out was his from Marco was immaculate. Levi’s hair was always brushed a particular, articulate way. None of his clothes had wrinkles in them unless they were designed to look accordingly (and even then, they looked as though he’d desperately tried to iron them out). At one time, just out of the corner of his eye because his eyes seemed to really like Levi, he’d seen Levi quickly tidy Marco’s desk when the man had turned his back. After finding about this habit, he’d avoided letting Levi back into his apartment, knowing just how carried away the man could get in just a short amount of time. It wasn’t like Levi really wanted to return to his apartment, because he surely knew how dirty it was.

“Eren,” Levi said, voice actually quiet now. He was fishing something out of his back pocket with a pained, begrudging look on his face. The bell on the door rang as a few customers stepped in to signal the beginning of the noon rush. Eren had missed the last one. “I need you to do me a favor. I’m not gonna be able to step three feet away from this damn counter for an hour. For whatever reason, I left my phone and wallet on my coffee table. Can you grab them for me?”

Levi threw his keys to Eren and the brunette caught them with minimal fumbling.

_That’s weird. Didn’t take him as the type to space out over stuff like that._

Eren doing it, himself, was a completely different situation. At least Levi hadn’t dropped his wallet in the middle of the lobby (Eren was still a little embarrassed by that). He answered with a quiet, “Yeah,” without really thinking twice. And _then_ he thought twice. “I’m not gonna forget about how you told Marco not to give me _my_ wallet.”

“I swear, if you try fucking with anything in that wallet, I will slice you open in your sleep and sell your organs on the black market. I know where everything is in that wallet, down to the last number on my driver’s license.”

“Of course you do.”

Levi was taken over by a couple of customers, rendering him unable of shooting back a fast and witty retort. Eren took that as both his excuse and his reason to leave.

Eren made it back to the complex in what he would consider highly recognizable and praise-worthy record time. There wasn’t anyone to praise him, though, as an empty lobby greeted him. Levi’s apartment was just as quiet, spotless and unnerving in its perfection. He could never quite wrap his head around how Levi could actually _want_ to live this way, but at the same time he’d decided to silently agree with himself when he thought that it was endearing in its own way.

Catching himself transforming traits of Levi’s that would otherwise be viewed as negative into positive ones, he harshly bit down onto his lower lip and wandered through the small space, feeling on the wall for a light switch. The apartment he was slowly growing used to came to light. Of course, it was simple—the living room consisted of an L-shaped couch with a wooden and glass coffee table in front of it, a well-loved book shelf, and a small entertainment center with a TV that was probably only used when Levi had company. The living room connected with a kitchen and dining room, which was bigger than Eren’s little kitchenette, but only just. He only had the essentials and two chairs at his small table what was only meant for one on a daily basis. There were various candles, although mostly fresh cotton scented, littered all throughout the apartment. They were mostly worn down, wicks almost too small to use. There was a small hallway that lead away from the living room with three doors—one for a bathroom, one for Levi’s bedroom, and one for a hall closet. Eren had only seen the bathroom, and that was only once. Levi had given him a good and long talk about leaving the seat up while at other’s homes after that.

The phone and wallet sat exactly where Levi promised they’d be, in the center of the coffee table, tossed sort of arbitrarily (by Levi’s standards, at least) together. With a sigh, Eren picked them both up and shoved them into his own back pocket before retreating out of the apartment (not after locking it up and turning off the light, because as funny as it would be to see Levi’s reaction after at least another four hours of a light being on for no reason, it was also fucking terrifying to think about, discarding all thoughts of the things Levi had done to _him_ ).

He stopped halfway out the door, though.

_I can’t just waste a perfectly good opportunity, can I?_

Perhaps leaving the light on or leaving the door unlocked wasn’t a good idea, but he could come up with something else. He snuck-not-so-sneakily back into the apartment and let his gaze sweep the room again. Everything was so precise, put in the perfect places. The coffee table was a certain distance away from the couch, the chairs in the dining room pushed up under the table that was almost exactly half a foot away from the wall. His entertainment center seemed to sit right in the center of the wall.

_It would be a shame if I moved everything just . . . Four inches to the left._

He doubted it was something Levi would notice immediately, which was the most exciting part. Levi seemed so anal about the placement of things. It would be such a minor change that he’d probably bump into corners and trip over himself, constantly worrying about something seeming a little bit off, but being unable to put his finger on it.

And so he did. He was very careful about it; actually taking time to make sure everything was in just the same order as before . . . Just to the left. Even the few paintings and pictures that hung on the walls were moved, and he would’ve done Levi’s room if he weren’t actually mortified by what may come of that. This was enough. This was just a small thing that Levi may not even notice, and he knew he wouldn’t die for it. His malice to _really_ get back at Levi had drained out after his revelations on Wednesday and Thursday. Now it was all just good fun, in his case at least.

“Just put them on the break room table for me,” Levi murmured after he returned, in between scanning someone’s booze and asking them for identification. “Can’t move three feet, remember?”

“Right, right.”

He trekked back to the break room, maneuvering his way around a tidy stack of boxes that looked fresh and ready to be opened, before stepping into the break room. It, of course, was spotless, like maybe Levi had outright threatened his ‘squad’ into keeping it that way or losing their genitals if they didn’t. There wasn’t much to it, even though its spotlessness reminded him of Levi, and Eren did what he was told, placing the goods down onto the break room table and turning to leave.

It was then, of course, that he noticed something terribly amiss.

There was a bulletin board hanging up next to the door with various things written in a handwriting that was too wiry and not quite feminine enough to be Levi’s (not like he’d memorized it or anything, of course). There were pictures of all of the employees and their titles—Levi, Manager. Hanji, Assistant Manager. Petra, Cashier. Krista, Cashier. Mike, Cashier. Auruo, Stocker. All of them were smiling, as if they would ever be even slightly excited to live the life of a retail worker, except for Levi. Levi, of course, had his usual bored mask on, but with a glint of something that looked like happiness in his eyes.

His fingers found the pen that was hanging by a ball chain from the bulletin board and he decided he needed to change that.

 

[--X--]

 

Levi felt like maybe he had missed something after Eren left. He’d spent far too long in the break room for Levi’s comfort, but he still couldn’t afford to see if the kid had fucked anything up in there. The rush had been spectacularly terrible, rendering him almost entirely incapable of doing anything but ringing up customers. It was like a blessing disguised as two women when Petra showed up to clock in and Hanji returned from lunch. Their greetings were lost in the chatter coming from the small entity of customers clustering impolitely around the counter.

He eliminated the threat (it sounded so much better than ‘taking care of all of the customers and shooing their sorry asses out of the store’) before Petra so much as stepped out of the break room.

“Is there a fucking unicorn in there or something?” he grumbled as he finally got the chance to step away from the register for a moment. Petra was standing in the doorway of the break room next to Hanji, and boisterous laughter erupted from the taller woman. Petra looked like she was torn between laughing, probably from Hanji’s influence, and being angry about something. “Okay, seriously, what the fuck. What in God’s name could be so fucking interesting?”

Petra’s gaze flickered between him and _whatever_ the hell it was making Hanji lose her shit.

The strawberry blonde immediately covered her mouth to silence her giggles and she stuttered out an apology before fleeing past Levi and over to the register. Levi decided that was definitely not a reaction he liked very much. That was a very, very bad sign. Hanji was still standing there in front of where the bulletin board hung on the wall, holding her stomach as if it helped the pain her obnoxious laughter caused.

Levi sighed and stepped into the break room to see for himself what the fuss was about. “I have a feeling someone’s gonna die.”

Someone was definitely going to die. That someone was going to be Eren, he could feel it.

All of the pictures of the employees of the shitty little convenience store were untouched, aside from his of course. There was a messily scribbled mustache above his mouth, and a shitty top hat to boot. He would’ve laughed, because that was possibly the least mature thing he’d ever seen, until he noticed the little comic-like speech bubble next to his head that read, “I love sucking cock”.

“I would’ve preferred that unicorn.”

 

[--X--]

 

Levi didn’t know what possessed him to allow Eren into his apartment after the little speech bubble incident. He was still peeved, because that meant he had to call the General Office, spend thirty minutes waiting on hold, and _then_ explain the situation to his superiors. The pictures of the employees was something ridiculously required by his employer, and he didn’t feel like having to explain it to the district manager later on down the road, so just coming clean about it was the next best thing. He’d never heard someone laugh so hard in his life before ordering him a replacement picture.

Alas, there he was, with Eren lounging around on his couch while he struggled with the weirdest sensation that _something_ was off about his apartment. Eren hadn’t been gone long enough when he dropped by to get his things for him earlier in the day, so he didn’t think the kid had fucked anything up too royally. He was sure he would’ve noticed by now, anyway.

There was something annoying in the way Eren snickered when he slammed his knee on the coffee table through a bought of trying to figure out what was up. He looked far too fucking smug for normalcy but offered nothing up on what he probably did.

Eren had gone off on his merry little way after thoroughly defacing him in the break room to buy a movie that had been recently released. Even though it looked cheesy and the previews were a bit of overkill, Levi had been meaning to see it, maybe with Hanji because that was the kind of shit she loved. He said as much. He realized, of course, that he should not have because now they were sitting in his living room, waiting for the brunette woman to make her appearance. If it had been entirely up to him, which it wasn’t, Hanji wouldn’t have been invited and Eren would be at least fifty feet away from him and he would be snuggled up in a throw blanket, reading. Eren had snagged his phone when he hadn’t been looking and invited her himself though.

He was slipping up, he decided. Levi was never this careless. He wasn’t having a particularly bad day, as he never really had days like Eren apparently did. After leaving his things on his coffee table that morning, and then just leaving his phone out for Eren to reach, he was sure he was losing his sense of self-awareness.

(Truth be told, although it wouldn’t be told to anyone, he was blaming both of these instances on Eren inadvertently effecting him. In the morning, he’d heard Eren talking outside of his apartment, probably to another resident. It was embarrassing and stupid as hell, but he’d been distracted by the brunette’s voice, and played it off as walking out of his apartment on his way to work to tell him to shut the fuck up so early in the morning. The second time, he’d only been thinking about ways to get back at Eren, but it was _still_ Eren that had taken over his thoughts.)

The doorbell rang and Eren reacted before he could.

The young man hurried over to the door in a mess of stupid, lanky limbs and pulled the door open. Levi covered his eyes to miss the visual of Hanji pulling him into a crushing bear hug and haul him off of the floor.

“You’re Eren, right?!” she asked excitedly, still hugging him to herself. He gasped and choked out something inaudible, and she murmured an apology and unenthusiastically put him back down. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’m Hanji!”

They carried on some sort of stupid moron-banter while Levi set up the movie to save time. Hanji broke his last DVD player, and he wasn’t risking a potentially technologically-inept Eren touching it. By the time he’d finished and sat back down at the couch, they were talking about him.

“So you’re the one who’s got our beloved, sweet little Levi all flustered,” she cooed, playing with Eren’s hair and poking his cheeks. It was some sort of weird affectionate motherly kind of action, he assumed. “He talks about you a lot. You’re definitely as cute as he says—”

“Oi, is your ass jealous of all of the shit coming out of your mouth?” Levi cut in. He glared poison at Hanji that he hoped would kill her by osmosis. “Leave him be, Hanji. Movie’s starting.”

Hanji laughed and sat down and Levi was almost graced with silence.

“You totally want me,” Eren practically sang, giving his hips a little extra bounce as he made his way over to join the two of them on the couch. Levi didn’t miss the redness in his face or the way he sort of stumbled when he realized Levi was actually watching. “Try keeping your hands to yourself.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

The movie went relatively well, at least for the standards Levi could uphold with Eren and Hanji in the same room. They laughed obnoxiously and pointed out when things were impossible just like every other person that Levi refused to watch movies with. At one time, Hanji had gotten into some scientific details, and that’s when he decided to throw pillows at them and tell them to shut the fuck up. That only lasted for about thirty minutes, but he’d decided to take what he could get. By the time the credits rolled, Levi considered that it had been far too quiet for far too long and snuck a glance over to the two brunettes hogging up at least eighty percent of his couch.

Eren was curled into a little ball on the cushion next to him, fast asleep, while Hanji leaned back, sprawled across the L, arms outstretched to the air. She shot a grin at Levi, who scowled.

_I’m giving him thirty minutes before I push him off of my fucking couch or kill him._

“Just let him sleep,” Hanji hummed as she stood up and stretched. “But I should probably be heading back to my place. It’s late as hell and not all of us are off tomorrow.”

She pressed a little kiss to his forehead, despite his best efforts of batting her away and protesting. She grabbed his arm and pulled him with her to the door, as if she were forcing him to see her out. She turned to him, though, when they were far enough from Eren to know they wouldn’t wake him up.

“Be nice to the kid. I think he really likes you.” She stepped out of the door and shot Levi a little smile before pulling the door shut with her as she left.

(Levi deemed it fine to let Eren sleep after that little bit. His sleeping face was too peaceful, lacking his usual flame and energy, to wake him up. He draped his throw blanket over the boy and slipped back into the spot he’d been occupying for the movie, drifting into his book. The peacefulness he felt was almost worth waking up at seven in the morning to the smell of burning eggs and Eren absent from his spot next to him. He doubted Eren would ever forget the way he practically screamed, _“You are the result of billions of years of successful evolution, so why the fuck can’t you act like it?!”_ at the sight of flaming eggs and a charred spot on the cabinet near his stove before frantically tearing the pan out of Eren’s grasp and throwing it into the sink.)

 

[--X--]

Sunday was spent, weirdly enough, with Eren. Levi tried to teach Eren how to properly use kitchen utensils, as his inability was obvious, but got fed up with it so quickly that he scrapped that idea and just made Eren watch him instead. They didn’t do anything particularly enjoyable, and Eren mostly just took advantage of the fact that Levi had a bigger TV than him while Levi did his own thing (which included cleaning, of course, and reading).

Monday brought their odd companionship to a screeching halt.

Levi came home a little over an hour earlier than usual. He was greeted with an unfamiliar face in the lobby, an older woman, wandering around and looking absolutely lost and frustrated. She turned and caught Levi’s eye, before hurrying over to him without a word.

She, of course, was a bit taller than him. The signs of age were apparent on her face, or maybe a rough time raising children that stressed her out to no end, but neither options were disregarded when he saw the color of her eyes, her hair, the shape of her nose—she looked too much like Eren to be anything but his mother, he decided. She’d aged rather gracefully, her hair still full of the vibrant brown that was just like Eren’s hair, pulled into a quick side-ponytail over her shoulder. He almost stopped to offer a prayer for her, for surviving through Eren’s adolescence, but she was talking and he had to stumble to catch up to her words.

“Could you help me?” she asked, smiling a little apologetically. She had Eren’s smile, or perhaps Eren had her smile. “My name’s Carla, I’m looking for my son, Eren. He told me to visit him today around this time and he’d be out here waiting, and I wrote down his apartment number, but I left it at home. Do you know where he lives?”

_Definitely Eren’s mother. You poor thing._

“I know him all too well,” Levi said absently, nodding and waving her along with him as he headed for the stairs. “Has he said anything about the complex, or how he likes living here?”

“He talks about it all of the time,” she said softly, gratefully following along behind him. “I think he loves living here. Said he’s been having a little bit of trouble with a certain resident, but he—”

Levi’s chuckle brought her sentence to a premature end and she peered at him curiously as they reached the top of the stairs.  He turned to face her, and gave a little bow. “I do believe that would be me,” he said, taking the few steps it took to make it to Eren’s door. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, proving that Eren hardly ever locked his door. “If you’ve heard of me I’m sure I can tell you that I’m ‘the fiancé’.”

He didn’t expect the way her eyes widened, or the way she stared at him incredulously without words. _Wait, fuck—_

“Fiancé,” she said softly, and a sad little smile graced her lips. “I see. I’ve known he’s been interested in someone, just from the way he talks, in the last few weeks, but . . . A _fiancé._ You know, I’ve known about him and what kind of people he’s attracted to since he was young, but he would never talk to me about it. Twenty-one and hiding things like this from me?” She bit down on her lip, and Levi did the same. His eyes were probably wide, something he lost control of the moment Carla started to speak. This wasn’t what he’d meant. He thought Eren had talked to her about it. It was a joke.

“I, uh, ma’am—“

“Don’t worry,” she said softly, effectively cutting him off with a pat to his shoulder. She stepped into Eren’s apartment and turned around, hand gently grasping the door as she smiled at Levi. “I’ll talk to him. I just need to be alone with him. I can wait. Thank you so much.”

She shut the door before he could protest. There was something in her eyes, a little glimpse that he had caught before the door shut. It was a fire, a fire too similar to Eren’s, too unreadable. He returned to his apartment with that fire in his mind, in the back of his mind where he kept it as he sat down on his couch in the living room that still felt too off and reminded him too much of Eren. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I promise I'll never leave off on a cliffhanger like this again (i'm lying)  
> Last part actually drove away from the initial plan but that's okay because I have a much clearer conscience doing this


	6. Bringing Grenades to a Gunfight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There comes a time (or a whole lot of them) in a man's life when he sits back and says, "I shouldn't have done/said that. I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boywitch.tumblr.com !

 

“When were you going to tell me, Eren?”

Eren was greeted with the sight of his mother sitting tentatively on his couch, hands folded in her lap. She had that motherly chastising look on her face, the one that spelled out that he had been caught red-handed like the many times he had snatched cookies off of the cooling racks before they were cool enough, or the one time he’d poured two liters of Pepsi into the Dracaena pot (or was it the Fittonia incident? He really had no luck when it came to his mother’s indoor plants). It was the look he was given when she’d found out about something after he’d gone to considerable lengths to cover his trail. It was the look where she was a little impressed, albeit disappointed, that he’d gone through so much to try and hide it with the childish fear that he’d be in more trouble than realistic, but she still had to punish him for it because it was a no-no.

Like when he was a child and still doing things to get him this look on a near daily basis, his memory flickered through every single possible option that could have put him in this position as he slowly moved to sit down in the loveseat she had handed down to him. She watched him expectantly, eyes bright and unwavering like they’d always been.

_If this isn’t nostalgic, I don’t know what is._

The biggest problem was, of course, that he could not figure out what he’d done. His mother offered him no opening, as normally the evidence of his fuck-up was nearby and she’d glance over at it until he got the hint and he’d apologize. Her eyes didn’t move from his, and that screamed severity. He was fucked for something he couldn’t put his finger on. He felt maybe it should be in the back of his mind, and maybe it was, but he couldn’t find it.

“I give up,” he sighed, throwing his hands up and shrugging. “You’re scaring me. What is it?”

“I met one of your neighbors.” She had a poker-face that reminded him strongly of Levi. Even the way she spoke reminded him. _Was that the hint?_ “I didn’t get his name, but he’s short. Pleasant fellow, I guess if you can get past the eyes. He didn’t show much emotion until the last second.”

Eren groaned, running a hand through his hair. _Definitely._

“Okay, what did he say?” His mother said nothing. “If you’re waiting for me to fess up to something, I’m not gonna be able to, Mom. I have no idea what you’re upset about.”

He bit back the part where he wanted to tell her the ratio of how likely anything that came out of Levi’s mouth was bullshit, once he found out she was his mother. The look on her face was a good indication to shut up; her eyebrows were drawn down, lips pressed into a tight line. She certainly pleased he wasn’t letting up on what she was waiting for.

“He introduced himself as ‘the fiancé’,” Carla said finally. Eren felt his blood run cold. “Eren—“

“No, Mom—“

“No, Eren.” The finality in Carla’s voice made his back snap straight, an instant reflex to her ‘mom voice’. Mikasa was trying to perfect it, knowing what kind of reaction it got out of him. “Listen to me, okay?”

His teeth clacked when he snapped his mouth shut.

“Honey, I love you. I love you so much, and I’m not sure if you realize that,” she said, softly, affectionately. She gave him a soft smile. Too understanding. “And I love you no matter what. I feel like you should already know this, but you apparently do not and I have to remind you.” She paused, as if waiting to see if Eren would cut in again, and when he didn’t, her voice dropped down a little further with, “I know you’re gay.”

Eren was seventy different flavors of sure he was dead, or at least dying. He could physically feel every single blood cell migrating away from his face, like ducks for the winter. The air in his apartment felt icy cold, even though he’d left the temp somewhere between seventy-two and seventy-seven. The sheer fact that Levi was the problem, that Levi was the reason for this entire talk didn’t leave his mind, though. He wasn’t supposed to intervene in something like this. His preference was supposed to be something he was the one to tell people, or at least in his mother’s case, keep to himself until the end of time.

He’d been silent for too long to pass it off as uncomfortable misunderstanding, but dammit was he going to try.

“I’m not—“

“Please don’t lie to me,” she said softly, maybe a little sadly. She looked like she was going to cry. Now seemed like a good of time as any for Eren to fling himself face-first off of the complex roof. “The only thing I’m upset about is that you won’t _talk_ to me.”

_If Levi just hadn’t said anything—_

He swallowed thickly, his nerves finally finding him. His mouth was dry, his hands trembling where they sat stiffly on his thighs, his eyes wide. There was sweat on his forehead, he was sure.

_How long has she known? How long has she been waiting for this?_

“Talk to me, please.”

_I’m a fucking idiot._

“Okay.”

 

[--X--]

 

Levi set a mental timer the exact moment he heard the front door to Eren’s apartment shut above him. He counted every single stupid fucking minute thereafter, waiting for Eren to show up in his apartment uninvited to give him a piece of mind. He held on to the hope that maybe the entire situation went well, that maybe Eren would thank him for causing a little misunderstanding. He was almost entirely sure that Carla had implied that she knew Eren was gay, or at least _not_ straight. That was the main problem, he decided, not so much the fiancé part because he had faith that Eren held the brain cells to clear it up himself. The problem was that he’d probably given his mother the excuse to host a happy little intervention and he didn’t like that being on his conscience.

Exactly twenty-nine minutes after the door shut upstairs, he heard the door shut again and then two pairs of footsteps, one heavier-stepped than the other, travelling down the stairs.

And exactly three minutes after the footsteps stopped, there was a rapping at his door.

Levi exhaled a breath he didn’t remember inhaling on his way to the door. He reminded himself of Eren’s two main modes—happy and excited, or angry and moody. There was a high chance he was going to be greeted with one of those. While he pulled the door open, the fleeting wish that maybe he had stuck around and eavesdropped on the conversation to get a good gist of what to expect passed through his mind and he disregarded it just as quickly.

He didn’t expect to be shoved back roughly, the perpetrator knowing well enough to use both of their hands and what felt like full force to get him to move. Normally, he would’ve tried to hold his ground, but now he felt like dead weight, stumbling back as he grappled for balance and footing. Eren stepped in after him, slamming the door behind him.

There was the fire in those eyes, alright. The fire was twice as intense, twice as angry as he’d ever seen it before. It was annoying and exciting at the same time, something he thought he’d grown used to as far as Eren’s reactions went.

“You fucking prick.”

Eren’s voice was deep, rough, trenchant. About eight different ‘don’t smoke’ jokes popped into Levi’s mind, the crude ones always the most tempting, but Eren’s dangerous stance (feet shoulder-width apart, fists clenched, elbows slightly bent like he could poise to punch Levi in the face at any moment, back straight and confident) made him decide otherwise. The little shit wanted a fight. He hadn’t come down expecting an apology, or an explanation. He was standing there, practically gunning for lights out, to be put to bed. Levi almost went through with it, because the brat’s sudden confidence really pissed him off, but the defiant voice inside of his head told him not to indulge.

“Alright, just listen—“

“I am so fucking tired of being cut off,” Eren seethed, taking the two steps to close in the distance between the two of them. He had to lean down. Levi cursed the cruel reality of the anger that was required for them to be in close proximity of each other. “Ever since that stupid ring bullshit, nobody’s listening to a _single_ fucking word I have to say! You know why?” Eren, of course, didn’t give him time to respond. “Very good! You’re why.”

Levi resisted fighting Eren’s temper in favor for letting him cool down, or at least try to. The boy didn’t take the opportunity and his nostrils flared in what Levi was taking as another surge of anger.

He really shouldn’t be allowed to think when he was throwing a tantrum.

“Is this part of the prank war bullshit?” he _demanded_ more than asked. He was speaking slower, now, at least, and that was a good sign. “Telling my mom you’re my fiancé? Do you get your fucking _kicks_ out of forcing people out of the closet or something?”

Levi finally pushed Eren away from him, out of his face, out of his bubble so that he could breathe a little easier. He glared a little too harshly and earned himself a flinch from Eren. The brunette breathed heavily, hard, as though he’d just finished running a few laps around the complex. Levi determined that he didn’t like this Eren. The way Eren could sometimes let his temper get the better of him was endearing to a point, but surely he could sit back and think about this a little more.

“Did she fucking disown you?” Levi pushed Eren right back and stepped into his personal space just like Eren had done to him a few seconds ago. Now that he’d composed himself, he could think about how to deal with this. He wasn’t doing well at being rational either, though. “Did she slap you, Eren? Spit on you? Scream at you? Did she tell you she couldn’t love you anymore? Because it sure as hell didn’t sound like it, shit for brains.”

The fire in Eren’s eyes faltered, his scowl slacking. He took an unsteady step backwards and Levi watched as he jerked when his back met the wall.

“Well, no—“

Levi smiled bitterly and Eren flinched again, cutting himself off. “Your mother loves the fuck out of you and accepts you, and you’ve got the audacity to stand here screaming at me because you wanted to hide in the goddamn closet forever?” Levi heard himself laugh before he could stop. He abruptly dropped the smile and bolted his veneer of reinforced steel back up. “You’re such an ungrateful little bastard. Do you know how many people out there would kill to be in your shoes right now?”

 _Perhaps aside from being pinned up against a wall in a markedly un-sexy situation,_ he amended, when he realized he really was pinning Eren to the wall. His arms blocked any potential escape the brunette may have planned.

Eren’s head dropped and Levi resisted the urge to force his chin back up.

“I liked the way things were,” Eren breathed, inhaling a few shaky times. Levi chalked it up to his adrenaline running itself out. “I could’ve just—“

“Married some lesbian who needed a beard too? Eren, I’m not sure if you’re really that dense, but you do realize you were making your life much more complicated than necessary, right? I thought it was common fucking sense.”

Eren’s head snapped back up and he glared at Levi weakly. It wasn’t the shitty excuse for attempted intimidation that had Levi slowly backing away, step by step, arms falling down at his sides, but the tears he could very clearly see welling up at Eren’s waterlines, despite the brunette’s disapproval of them. _He’s just as frustrated as you are,_ he realized as he stared at Eren, willing his expression to stay the same. He may have slipped even further into stoicism. _Except he’s confused, too, and probably overwhelmed and what the fuck did you just do? You made this headstrong idiot fucking_ cry? _I have an idea, maybe you should dig out your useless fucking Guinness and see if there’s a world record for being an ass gurgler, because holy shit, you’ve got it._

“You should leave,” he whispered. He had to fight to tear his eyes away from Eren. _Wait, that’s not what I meant._ “I mean.” He drew a breath. “Just . . . Go back up to your filthy apartment and calm down, alright? The world’s not ending, your mother still loves you, etcetera, etcetera.”

He could’ve cringed at the way he lacked grace in his words now.

Eren pushed off of the wall, sniffed, rubbed his eyes with his forearm and turned to leave.

Levi couldn’t manage his soft, “Sorry,” until after the door had been shut behind Eren and he’d been staring at the now-empty place on the wall for exactly four minutes.

 

[--X--]

 

“You look like—“

“If I hear another uncreative variant of ‘you look like shit’, I’m going to rip your balls off and feed them to Mikasa’s Newfoundland.”

Jean’s mouth snapped shut as he gave himself a moment to consider if it was worth it.

“Mikasa has a Newfoundland?”

“Yeah, his name is Dom and he’s a dick crunching misandrist. Mikasa didn’t even train him that way, he just fucking _hates_ anything with a penis. I’ve stopped trying to pet him for fear of my life.”

“Heh. Dom the cock-hater.”

While Jean snapped to attention at Annie’s shout of, “That does _not_ sound like shelving, twat skanks!” and obediently returned to placing game cases in their rightful places on the shelves in the section devoted to the PlayStation 3. Eren exhaled a long sigh, probably a little too over-dramatic considering his situation, and Jean gave him a look.

The drag between Monday afternoon and Friday had been agonizing so far, and that was heavily due to the fact that he hadn’t so much as spoken to or seen Levi. It was impossible to put the blame on the older man, of course, because Eren was the one avoiding him. He didn’t know what to say, let alone how to react if Levi was still cold, probably unforgiving, and maybe ready to call him out on his shit further. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see him or talk to him or dutifully receive and attempt to reciprocate insults ( _Yep, definitely a masochist_ ). It was just that he had realized that he had gotten angry, sought out Levi for the purpose arguing, and like most people who’ve realized they’ve done something wrong, really didn’t want to admit to it, much less apologize.

It wasn’t like Levi had apologized, either. Not that he’d heard.

The man had managed to keep his stoic persona throughout the entire tiff, though, which was even more unnerving. That could mean that Levi really didn’t give a fuck about him, which was probable considering he was usually the one to seek him out. There were more options but he was feeling particularly pessimistic today.

_My fault, my fault, my fault—_

“Seriously, why the long face? I refuse to listen to your, you know, feelings or whatever, if you make a goddamn horse joke.”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk about my, you know, feelings or whatever, with you,” Eren replied, sighing again. “Just . . . Go back to talking about how attractive and perfect my complex’s receptionist is.”

He really didn’t _want_ to listen to Jean talk about Marco at all. He didn’t want to listen to him describe a face he’d already seen several times, and how perfect his chin was, or his freckles, or his fucking nose for Christ’s sake. He disdained to hear, on a fourth occasion, that Jean had actually gone to the complex to ask Marco out on a date, to which he ‘eagerly’ complied, as Jean put it. Evidently it had been very successful. Eren didn’t fucking care.

“Well, he is pretty slammin’,” Jean said, smirking. “Did I tell you—“

“Yes, Jean, you probably did.” Eren made a face. “I was being sarcastic. I’d rather you not talk at all. Especially not about how happy you are with Marco. My fucks to give have left the building. Exited stage left. Hopped into their private jet to the island of Don’t Give A Shit for a nice martini and some hookers.”

“Shit man.” Jean blinked twice at him. “You really are in a shit mood. Or you’re taking come-back lessons from that Levi guy—“ Eren visibly blanched at the name and Jean stopped. Fucking bull’s-eye.

“So it’s Levi. Come on dude, you’re acting like you got your man-period or something. Did he dump you?”

“We weren’t a thing.” _Goddammit._

“Sure, sure,” Jean murmured, waving that off dismissively, uncaring. “You two get into a fight?”

“Sort of.” No, he did not want to be talking about this with Jean. Anyone but Jean. He’d even talk to Annie right about now, but she was at the register boredly flipping through one of the magazines and probably didn’t give a shit about his romantic drama. She was at least two years past the prime of her _own_ problems. She’d just stare at him blankly and tell him to wait it out or something, just like she’d done with her own relationship. “Doesn’t matter. Moral of the story is that I overreacted and now I’m too pussy to apologize about it. You happy?”

“Yup,” the other male said, smirking. “You need a drink.”

“I need a lot of drinks.”

“Maybe we should all get together at your place Saturday?”

Oh no. No, that was a terrible idea.

It would attract Levi’s attention, with so many people drunkenly stomping around in one tiny one-room apartment. He’d probably put in a formal complaint, instead of coming to talk to Eren about it to tell them to shut up, and Eren would get kicked right the fuck out. Yet . . . It was tempting. Maybe attracting Levi’s attention wasn’t such a bad idea. He could consider this getting even with him for the whole fiasco with his mother (even though he fully recognized there was nothing to really get back about; it was just the emotional turmoil he’d be compensating for).

Alright, it wasn’t such a terrible idea.

“I’ll invite everyone, and even Sasha,” Jean stated proudly, winking. “She’ll bring the good stuff, and the rest of us can bring the booze. Annie can bring her cousin and that freakishly tall roommate or fuckbuddy or whatever of his. The ones that work at the drive-in. We’ve got you taken care of man. We make a pretty great group for dealing with heartache.”

“It’s not heartache!”

“Oh, it totally is.” 

_It totally is._

 

[--X--]

 

Levi hissed, slipping down into his totaled office chair. He’d finally kicked it so hard that _something_ had broken and he was already looking into getting a new one (really, Hanji needed a new one, too, so it was the perfect excuse to use his company’s beloved money to buy something that didn’t make him feel like he broke his spine in a mighty war and was now suffering from sixty years of chronic pain).

Hanji watched him with a critical eye as he forced his shitty chair to turn, pressing it to emit a horrid screeching, before aggressively slamming down on the buttons of the mouse to his computer. He tried to pay her no mind, he really did, but with the way she was scrutinizing him, he had to stop glaring at his screen, the home page for Staples, to return her stare. She, of course, being finely tuned to suiting Levi’s mood swings and outburst, didn’t budge. In fact, she smiled.

“You’re upset,” she pointed out. Painfully obvious, of course, but mostly painful for the chair. “But can you please not take it out on corporate property?”

He grumbled about it being _his_ corporate property while he turned his eyes back to the computer screen. The webpage still hadn’t loaded and he was about ready to throw the useless PC out the window. It was running Windows ’98 for God’s sake. No reasonable computer ran Windows ’98 anymore.

“You’ve yelled at Mike three times, and he’s only been here for an hour. You’ve broken a chair. You almost snapped at Krista earlier—you do realize that’s a cardinal sin, right? I haven’t seen you this depressed since high school.”

 _High school was literal perdition. We don’t talk about high school, specifically not my freshman hair. Instead, Hanji, let’s talk about_ your _freshman hair and your personal hygiene, or lack thereof._  

“I don’t need you pointing out my anger for me.”

“I’m aware,” she said, nodding and leaning back in her chair. _Agonizing creak._ “Levi, you’ve got it bad.”

“Got _what_ bad, Hanji?” The daggers he glared were dull, diluted. Sure, he could break a chair, and he could yell at Mike about giving incorrect change (he’d apologize for that later), but he was feeble when Hanji was making a point and he refused to admit to it. “Pray tell.”

“Got it bad for Eren.”

Levi clicked harshly on the menu, leading him to office chairs, before withdrawing into himself. He leaned back into his chair—not too much, because he was pretty sure the support was broken and he’d end up falling flat on his back—pulled his legs in closer to him, and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t look at Hanji, of course, he just stared at the loading bar at the bottom of his browser window. It struggled to move at an orderly pace, and that pissed him off even more. Internet explorer hated him as much as he hated it.

He hated a lot of things, he realized. He hated a lot of important things, a lot of trivial things, a lot of miniscule things that nobody else took the time of day to hate. But he didn’t hate Eren, and he hated that. He hated that he didn’t hate Eren’s face, particularly his smile and his eyes. He didn’t hate his laugh, and he didn’t hate his voice or the words that came from it. When something like his sudden distance from Eren happened, it did something to a person. That something begrudgingly made him realize all of the little things he actually _missed_ about the brunette.

_So, of course, he’s avoiding me._

He was well aware that it was a two-way street—he could have easily hunted Eren down, but then what would he do? As of now, there was not a single scenario he could think of that wouldn’t end in Eren pissed off again. Levi didn’t have much of a way with words ~~,~~ when it came to making someone happy.

“Whatever the case may be,” Levi finally said, shaking his head and staring over at Hanji again. He wasn’t going to admit to anything so easily. Fuck that. “You’re a huge pain in the ass. If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re excelling in doing the complete and utter fucking _opposite._ ”

She nodded.

“Right. Shall I show up at your door tomorrow evening with a couple bottles of Chateau Bonnet Rouge? I’ll even bring an entire cheese plate over, for the added cliché. ”

 _Ah_. Hanji knew his every weakness, particularly that of his love for inexpensive wine.  If she knew any more about him, he may have been forced to kill her. “Fine.” He cast his finally loaded webpage a glance and frowned. He still wasn’t happy. “If you forget the cheese I’m not forgiving you, though.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when I said the last chapter wasn't very funny? Well this one definitely wasn't I'M SO SORRY.  
> Regularly scheduled broadcasting will resume soon u w u


	7. Game, Set, Match (Orpheum)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verbal smack-downs and truth-telling, Hark! the freckled angel sings, that whole recreational drunk thing, spontaneous Disney-esque breaks into song and dance, and maybe a little bit more than the two expected to come out of a night settling their thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [adjusts tie] is it just me or is it getting a little nsfw in here  
> I've actually decided to go ahead and bump the rating to explicit. 
> 
> some things;  
> 1) sorry levi was an ass (whispers i wasn't expecting people to get mad at him but i mean i'm glad because dude fucked up)  
> 2) there are some obvious pairings, and two implications in this chapter. Take them with a grain of salt if they ain't yo thing.  
> 3) yes here's the house party and recreational drug use thing you all saw in the summary (stop looking at me like i'm a stoner dammit)  
> 4) also sorry I pick on jean so much. I truly love him, and therefore I must pick on him. And let's be realistic, everything Jean does gets exaggerated from Eren's PoV, and vice versa.  
> 5) If you like music, listen to Orpheum by Anberlin (partially named this chapter after the song) because it suits Eren and Levi's relationship pretty well from either perspective. My playlist for this chapter consisted of Orpheum, Topless by Breaking Benjamin, Shiver Shiver by WALK THE MOON and The Enemy by The White Tie Affair. Also Mirrors by Justin Timberlake for reasons that will be obvious later in the chapter. someone bond with me over alternative music please  
> 6) I GOT A JOB so chapters MIGHT come a little slower but i'll only work 3-4 days a week so they shouldn't slow down too much. If nothing else things slow down because I have the inspiration for about 4 other fanfictions. 
> 
> Thank you and I love you all with the power of a thousand suns. Sorry I'm so behind on replying to comments, but I read them all and squeal over them all and blush over them all so thank you all so much. （●´∀｀）ノ♡
> 
>  
> 
> boywitch.tumblr.com !

 

“Ahh, this is so nice!”

Hanji hummed a happy little tune, falling back so that she was leaning up against Levi’s left side. The brunette woman smiled, taking an abnormally, and really sort of ballsy, large chug of her wine. It was almost disturbing to watch her drink her wine, haphazardness written all over her actions as they contradicted the finesse of the dainty wine glasses. The TV was on with some senseless sitcom neither of them had consistently paid attention to. The cheese platter had been thoroughly wrecked and sat discarded on the kitchen table. A bottle and a half of wine down between the two of them was enough to relax them both. Levi melded into the couch cushions and Hanji wormed herself into a comfy spot against him.

“It’s a shame Erwin couldn’t join us,” Hanji lamented, turning her head to snuggle into the cushion a little, too, and let off some of her weight from Levi. “He never does anything fun with us anymore.”

“When was the last time he really did?” Levi challenged, tracing the rim of his glass with his fingertip. He watched the way his wine rolled gently with each little move he made with mild interest. “He’s always been busy. I’m sure he drinks in his own time, but I can’t even remember the last time he drank with us.”

“Mmm, true.” Hanji shrugged once and returned to her face-snuggling the couch. “Him and his stupid family functions.”

Levi let out a soft hum of acknowledgment and agreement before taking a sip of his wine. The living room was mostly silent, save the shitty jokes and laugh track sounding from the TV. So far there had been few words between them, aside from making little quips about the show on the television, but Levi understood that this was just the calm before the storm. Once Hanji had downed enough, she would plunge right into talk mode, and she was a merciless beast. No doubt, she’d start asking every question under the sun plus one about Eren, especially ones Levi didn’t have answers for, or at least good ones.

They rarely drank together without some sort of excuse. They could both hold their liquor well, but Hanji had a godawful tendency to throw up and then pass out somewhere—anywhere—when she started to get sleepy and Levi just really hated hangovers. He hated hangovers, or at least his, to the point of never wanting to drink at all. As soon as his steps lightened and he felt like maybe he was bouncing on clouds with a light head and an empty chest, he knew he’d be in for the migraine, the queasiness, the motion sickness—everything aside from actually throwing up. Part of him was relieved, because vomit was absolutely disgusting and he probably wouldn’t make it to a trash can or toilet while intoxicated, but the other part of him wished he could just get the garbage out of his system and return to normal or something. That wasn’t the way the world worked.

And then he thought over the reason for the drinking, and the questions he was waiting to come from Hanji. Specifically, questions about Eren. _Eren._

The realization of everything hit him so quickly he felt like he was going to be sick. He held his glass of wine away from him with disgust, and he didn’t know if the disgust was towards the wine or himself. If Hanji noticed his aggressive little epiphany, she did well at hiding it as she held her wine glass close to her chest, cradling it like a child, while giggling mindlessly at the television.

Eren was the reason for this night. No, Eren was the reason for everything that had lead up to this point. It wasn’t so much that it was Eren’s _fault_ , per se, but that he was the cause and this was the effect. No, he was the cause and there were a lot of effects, such as Levi, for once, feeling guilt, or feeling alone on a Saturday night, despite Hanji’s persistent presence beside him. He was why Levi was _feeling_ in the first place right now. He was not an emotional drinker. Maybe he was a little more honest when he had alcohol in his system, but he was nothing but himself, and he wasn’t an emotional person. Now, though, he felt like words could overflow from his mouth, and so they did.

“Hanji,” he said, barely louder than a whisper, and Hanji pressed the mute on the remote like she’d been waiting for it all day. “Hanji, I fucked up.”

Levi could practically see the way her eyes got wide as she snapped to attention, spinning around in her seat to face Levi, expression gone from silly and happy over the stupid fucking sitcom on TV, to the absolute seriousness in his voice being reflected onto her face.

It was almost wonderful to realize that she was so ready to support him. He hadn’t explained anything to her about _why_ he had nearly destroyed his chair, or _why_ he had almost committed sin by yelling at Krista. She deserved a good explanation.

He didn’t have to wait for her to ask.

“When I say I fucked up, I mean royally.” He stared down at his wine before taking a large gulp of what was left and pouring himself another glass. “Maybe I haven’t displayed the severity of the situation. I didn’t so much as nudge him out of the closet as suplex him out, and right into the lap of his mother.”

Hanji’s eyes opened wider. Reasonably so.

It was an accident. Eren liked to bitch, so he thought maybe Eren had talked to his mom about the ring, about how the joke was that Levi was his fiancé, when in reality, he was not. He didn’t know Eren was in the closet. He didn’t know his mother would take the joke literally, and he didn’t have time to cover his ass. And then when Eren came to confront him, fired up and ready for anything, he’d just made things worse. He still hadn’t explained himself, and had even gone to lengths to make Eren feel guilty. He hadn’t been rational. He hadn’t thought it through. There was a part somewhere inside of him that had been deathly jealous of the love Eren’s mother had for him, and he told Hanji everything but that. Maybe it was the jealousy he had acted on.

“I didn’t get to apologize,” he said quietly after a few moments of silence. The glass he’d refilled just moments before was already empty, as he’d taken irritated sips after nearly every sentence. Hanji had noticed, and emptied the rest of the bottle for herself. “No, it’s not that I didn’t get to, because I could’ve, any time in between Monday and now, but—“ He scowled, bristled, unable to formulate an excuse. “Hanji, I’m losing it. I’m losing my fucking mind over a kid.”

“Well, technically, he’s an adult.” She smiled, running her fingers through his hair to soothe him.  It worked a little. “And it could just be the wine, you know.”

“I was losing my mind before this, you glue-guzzling douche.”

Hanji smiled a bit wider, and maybe Levi saw a bit of pity in there. He waited for her to agree, because that’s what Hanji did. She told him the truth, whether he wanted to hear it or not. Right now he really didn’t _want_ to hear it, but he knew he probably needed to, if there was anything to add on to what he’d already said. She wouldn’t berate him like he’d berated himself, at least.

“You were an ass,” she said, nodding matter-o-factly, sipping on her drink. He simply nodded in agreement, willing her to hurry and get the rest over with. “You’re aware of what coming out of the closet is like, willingly, so take that memory and think about how much worse it would’ve been if someone had outed you. You didn’t do it on purpose, no, but you could’ve handled the aftermath differently. He went through a different kind of anxiety. You spent years worrying over how your mother would react and what the consequences may be, and he’s spent years going out of his way to hide it from her, it sounds like. And then you kind of took your frustration out on him.”

Yes, this was definitely what he did not _want_ to hear.

“But you care about him.” Hanji’s tone was permeated with finality and she left no room for argument. Levi didn’t try. “And damn me, I’ll owe you half of my year’s salary if he doesn’t care about you, too. I bet you anything off your Christmas wishlist the reason why the closet fiasco hurt him so badly was because it was _you_. He probably would’ve tried to beat the shit out of anyone else, knowing him.”

Levi finally flinched. At that, Hanji looked a little proud (either of him for showing that tiny bit of vulnerability, or for herself for dragging it out of him).

“I should probably talk to him,” he said finally.

“And . . .?”

He scowled. “And apologize.”

“And?”

The more she prompted, the more drawn out her vowels were. Ah, yes, it was about time to cut her off.

“I don’t know what else you expect me to do, Hanji,” he muttered. “I don’t do shit like this often.”

“Tell him how you feel!” she squealed, leaning over onto him again. She rested her chin on his shoulder, a worrying grin plastered onto her face, acutely shaped into her lips, and Levi swore he would never give her the chance to gain the upper hand on him ever again. She was fucking crazy. “He’ll eat that shit up, you know! He’ll—“

“Alright, shut up.”

Maybe cutting Hanji off wasn’t a good idea. Just a little more and she’d probably pass out face-first into the cushions. Getting her quiet would be worth breaking out his personal wine.

It wasn’t until they’d finished the entire third bottle (his bottle) between the two of them that Hanji had fallen asleep, face smushed between his back and the couch cushion. She slept peacefully, by some miracle, and hardly stirred when he moved away and she was left sprawled out over the couch. It was a long and difficult process, picking her up and dragging her to his bedroom, only to deposit her on the bed and arbitrarily drape the covers over her. As if it were a second thought, he scooted his trash can closer to the bed and flipped her over onto her stomach. _Can’t have you puking on my shit or dying._

He realized, upon returning to the living room to hunt down a pillow and a blanket to make his post for the night on the couch, that something was off. He was a bit slow to react, senses marred by his inebriation.  It was a different sensation than he’d felt after the day Eren had gotten his phone and wallet for him. No, it was—

Loud-ass music, resonating from the apartment above and thrumming through his. There were loud steps, like dancing, shouting, jumping—

How the _fuck_ had he missed that? Had Eren just gradually turned it up, bit by bit, until it was blaring? Perhaps he really was that incoherent and the brat had turned it on a while ago and he was just now realizing it. He was opting for the former, considering he never got _too_ fucked up. He was still stable, still walking in a straight line despite the amount of booze that he’d already consumed. He’d always had a good alcohol tolerance, but that usually resulted in hangovers that compared to the unforgiving fires of hell.

Levi cut off his confusion in favor for annoyance. His regret, shamefulness and self-loathing was pushed to the back of his mind and he decided he was going to dismember the brunette in the level above him and feel bad about it in the morning.

 

[--X--]

 

There was something incredibly satisfying about managing to stuff eleven people into a tiny one-bed-one-bath apartment, small enough to only warrant a _kitchenette_.

It was even more satisfying to find out that they could all somehow fit in the living room to make an, albeit shabby, fully-formed circle. The coffee table had been scooted out to sit in the very middle of the room while they all took different places on the couch, loveseat, and the floor. Eren lounged in the center of the couch, Mikasa taking her place to his left and Armin to his right. In the love seat across from them, Sasha and Connie sat, fussing over the contents of Sasha’s purse. To the left of the couch Ymir sat cross-legged next to an uncharacteristically relaxed Jean and an equally uncharacteristically talkative Marco. To the left of the couch sat Annie, silent and bored-looking as ever, incredibly close to the couch arm next to Mikasa’s legs, her cousin Reiner in between her and his roommate (“ _or fuckbuddy or whatever of his_ ”) Bertholdt to her left.

It was surprising that they could all get together without much planning. Eren had found out, though, that he wasn’t the only boring person in their small, quiet town that had no plans on any given Saturday night. They’d started off the evening by meeting up in a small flock outside of a town favorite bar. The rather loosely-put and laid back agenda was to stop there for a few drinks, to talk and socialize carelessly for a little while, and then walk to the complex to stay for the rest of the night. The walk back had consisted of trying to push each other off of the sidewalk curbs, Marco giving a homeless man ten bucks, earning the nickname of ‘Freckled Angel’, and Jean falling even more grossly in love. On the way inside, they’d all tried to pull off complete sobriety and wave to Erwin, who only smiled and waved them off.

Since they had entered the apartment and picked their spots, Ymir had _not_ ceased talking about a cashier she wanted to make love to ten different ways, Annie hadn’t left Mikasa’s side, and Jean hadn’t quit trying to subtly ask Eren if the blonde and Asian were a thing. Before Sasha and Connie had even loaded up two pipes to pass around with lighters, Reiner had already threatened to toss somebody off of Eren’s balcony for cat-calling when he and Bert held eye contact for longer than possibly platonic. After one hit, Armin was babbling about how attractive Erwin had been.

Eren groaned, snatching (although carefully, because Sasha’s eyes followed that bowl like it were her most prized possession and she’d probably end anyone who broke it) the pipe from his friend. The toke was smooth, though, and the pleasant surprise of Sasha bringing probably some of her best stuff distracted him from his annoyance. Everyone was allowed to be happy for the time being.

He held the smoke in longer than necessary, savoring the feeling, the gentle burn in the back of his throat, absently passing the bowl to Mikasa. He grinned at Sasha as he exhaled, and she returned it with a knowing smile.

“Jean said you needed to recover from a broken heart!” she called over the music. He cringed, eyes officially on him. “So I kind of thought, you know, what are friends for? I’ve been saving this stuff for a special occasion.”

“Broken heart.” Mikasa’s eyes were on him, of course, when he turned to look at her. “What haven’t you told me?”

Eren opened his mouth, but of course, Jean’s was ever bigger and ever faster.

“His neighbor outed him and dumped him.”

“Jean!” Eren hissed with a glare sharp and curt and he hoped maybe he could actually summon whatever demon Levi sold his soul to for such a milk-curdling glare. Mikasa jerked up from her seat next to him and he tugged on her wrist, pulling her back down. “Fuck. Okay, yeah, he outed me, but Mom handled it well. But he never broke up with me—Fuck! We weren’t together.” He looked at Marco. “That whole ring thing _wasn’t_ what he tried to play it off as. It was just . . . Fucking public humiliation.”

Of course, Mikasa’s expression still screamed livid.

It took three more hits and Annie mixing her a Black Russian to get Mikasa to relax back into the couch. Throughout the half hour following, Eren proved to have started some sort of circle of letting off steam, and everyone else proved to be completely oblivious to Annie effectively crawling into Mikasa’s lap.

They all took turns, drinks and bags of chips being passed out as they went. It wasn’t so much a clockwise motion, but more of a speak-up-or-forever-hold-your-peace kind of thing. Jean, of course, was the first to rush into a rant about his father berating him for something he’d done with good intentions, earning him a hand squeeze from Marco. Armin was next, once again complaining about the shitty excuse for a professor he had, and then how he didn’t feel he had the confidence to pass his summer classes. Annie bitched about the corporate office being a bag of dildos and proceeded to take the longest hit from the one pipe that was still being passed around (although a little slower and less coordinated than before) that most of them had witnessed. Ymir verbally noted how impressed she was before going on a roll about the cashier she was hard for, of course, glaring at Jean when he snorted at her. Reiner and Bert held mutual feelings about a spectacularly shitty boss and how their rent was going up. Connie informed them that he had nothing to complain about, and immediately caught shit from Reiner and Jean about trying to make everyone look bad.

Eren and Mikasa didn’t go, and Eren assumed she didn’t either because she considered the little episode from earlier to be enough of an indication of what was currently _grinding her gears._

Halfway through Sasha’s speech about her own father, and updating everyone on his current state of mind about her, she stopped to listen to the music. A gentle, soothing guitar played through the opening of the song, and she held up her palms, eyes light with excitement as she hopped up out of her seat.

“Okay, hold your shit everyone!”

If she hadn’t had everyone’s attention before that, she definitely did. She clumsily grappled around in her purse until pulling out a half-empty travel-sized bottle of lotion and holding it up to her mouth. Connie was already up with her, a goofy grin on his face now.

“ _Aren’t you somethin’ to admire?_ ”

Sasha sang along to the song into her lotion bottle with practiced precision, pointing at Connie with child-like glee. _“Cos your shine is somethin’ like a mirror and I can’t help but notice you reflect in this heart of mine!_ ”

“ _If you ever feel alone and the glare makes me hard to find,_ ” Connie returned, holding an imaginary microphone to his mouth, pointing right back at her. “ _Just know that I’m always parallel on the other side!_ ”

 _“Cos with your hand in my hand and a pocket full of soul,”_ they sang together now, grasping each other’s hands like they’d done this a million times (and Eren wouldn’t put it past them). _“I can tell you there’s no place we couldn’t go. Just put your hand on the glass, I’ll be tryin’ to pull you through, you just gotta be strong!”_

It was possibly the most exciting and humorous chain reaction Eren had ever been given the opportunity to sit back and watch. Everyone was up on their feet in record time, like this was some goddamn Disney movie where they had been practicing an outburst to cheer everyone up, to lighten everyone’s spirits and bring them back into happiness. It was like a small drunken college party, although Eren knew nothing about those. He knew there was dancing, and the music had gotten turned up to ungodly volumes.

Armin, and even Ymir, had joined Connie and Sasha in their little routine. Mikasa and Annie migrated away from the others, though they hardly noticed. Jean and Marco were, disgustingly, wrapped up in each other already, literally. Reiner and Bertholdt finally threw away their determination to keep up their façade and were engrossed in each other, as well.

Eren stayed in his place, smiling as he watched them all, dancing, singing to each other, making utter fools out of themselves.

“ _Cos I don’t wanna lose you now! I’m looking right at the other half of me. The vacancy that sat in my heart is a space that now you hold.”_

Eren found the pipe they’d been passing on the floor, and carefully returned it next to the other one on the table. It still meant so much to him that they’d all come, even some that he didn’t know as well as others. For the amount of shit he gave Jean on a regular basis, he had to hand it to him this time. He probably owed him one.

_“Show me how to fight for now and I’ll tell you, baby, it was easy coming back into you once I figured it out. You were right here all along.”_

The musky smell that overcame his apartment was a comforting off-set to watching the sickeningly sweet couples dancing around each other, or the small group of four embarrassing themselves the longer they went. Naturally, somewhere along in there, Armin lost his shoes and his shirt, and he’d normally be mortified by that much when sober, despite the tank top that was always strategically placed underneath his shirts. Armin was always one to just gradually lose his clothes when he drank.

_“It’s like you’re my mirror, my mirror staring back at me. I couldn’t get any bigger with anyone else beside me.”_

Eren wished that he was up and dancing, too. He didn’t want to be part of the embarrassing group, and he certainly didn’t want to be in between one of the love-sick couples. He didn’t want to be by himself, and even if he did, he doubted right now that he could haul himself up. No, he wanted to be with—

_“And now it’s clear as this promise, that we’re making two reflections into one. Cos it’s like you’re my mirror, my mirror staring back at me, staring back at me.”_

Eren slipped his eyes shut and just listened. The music was so loud he was surprised the police hadn’t knocked down their door and simply arrested them all (or at the very least shot the stereo to its end). He considered for a moment sneaking over to it just to turn the damn thing down a little bit. He only humored this thought long enough to feel himself suddenly being hauled to his feet by a strong hand gripping the front of his shirt and his eyes flew open, struggling to catch up to the steel pair staring up at him.

_“Aren’t you something, an original? Cos it doesn’t seem merely assembled, and I can’t help but stare, cos I see truth somewhere in your eyes.”_

Levi was saying something, his face the utter definition of irritated, but it sounded more like a murmur. His voice had always been pretty quiet. The world swayed with Eren’s new perspective much higher than the old one, and it felt like maybe there was a fly or a fucking bee stuck in the back of his skull. He watched sort of blearily as Levi stopped talking and just _stared_ at him expectantly, willing him to hurry up and give him the response he wanted for whatever he’d been saying. That seemed pretty typical, Eren thought.

_“Ooh, I can’t ever change without you, you reflect me, and I love that about you. And if I could, I would look at us all the time.”_

Eren learned quickly that staring at Levi quizzically got him nowhere.

 

[--X--]

 

The brat was utterly incoherent, or maybe just temporarily disoriented. Levi decided to take matters into his own hands, of course, since yelling that the music was too loud was apparently _not loud enough_. He released the front of Eren’s shirt and stalked over to the stereo, seemingly completely ignored by every single party-goer. He found the volume after much fumbling around and turned it down by at least half abruptly. There was a grumbled, “What the hell?” but he didn’t grace it with his acknowledgment.

“Do you realize it’s midnight and perhaps people, you know, _in the immediate vicinity_ are trying to sleep?” he demanded (and maybe it was just his ears or the wine or the fact that Eren’s eyes looked dopier than usual, maybe sleepy, a little glazed over, sort of cute, sort of sexy, that he didn’t sound as upset as he intended on). “Because I’d love to be the one to break it to you that this is a reality and the obnoxious prancing going around up here needs to pipe the fuck down.”

Eren looked like he wanted to say something, so Levi parted his lips to tell him to get on with it.

Instead of speaking, Eren stepped over to him, steps louder, a little bit of swaying maybe, and grabbed his wrist. The brunette was pulling him away from the group of friends and towards the door and he had no time to protest or ask questions.

“Not here,” he heard Eren mutter. And then the kid looked over his shoulder and gave a wave to his friends. “I’ll be right back! Gimme a few minutes.”

The trek out of Eren’s apartment, down the steps and into _Levi’s_ apartment was a blur, and the older man was almost glad because he doubted it was pretty, let alone very safe. There was only a vague recollection of Eren muttering something, to which he shot a retort back to, and then Eren countering, which had either rendered him speechless or too annoyed to reply. He was pushed up against the wall in his own living room upon entering his home, next to the light switch, just inches away from where he’d had Eren the afternoon before. Eren mindlessly kicked the door shut, attention never leaving him.

The music had been turned back up, bass rocking through the apartment again.

“Listen,” Eren said abruptly, and Levi raised an eyebrow. “Don’t fuck up tonight for them, alright? They’re just—“

“Waking up half of the goddamn complex?”

Eren scowled and tried to glare, but Levi deemed it an unsuccessful attempt. He still had that sleepy, glazed-over look to him, despite being a little bit more coherent now that he was angry. Anger wasn’t the ideal emotion to receive, at least not with Levi’s current state of mind, but at least he could appreciate the fact that he was seeing Eren at all.

“They’re just having _fun._ Have you been drinking too, or something?”

“Well, that’s great and all,” he said, a fake pinch of pleasantry lacing his voice. He ignored Eren’s question. “But you don’t have to be so goddamn obnoxious about it.”

“You don’t have to be such an _asshole_ about it!”

Eren’s voice was rising in volume. He was unsteady, hands shaking on the wall next to Levi’s head. He was closer than he’d normally be, even in a situation like this. Levi entertained the fleeting wish that they were both more stable, less angry, but still this close. He liked being able to feel Eren’s heat, and the boy was far too warm.

“Like I’m the only one quick to anger,” Levi growled. Ah, his mouth was definitely getting away from his mind, and at break-neck speed. “You rise up to everything like it’s a goddamn challenge, like you’ve got something to _win_ from it. It’s like you’re always looking for a fucking fight.”

“Maybe I am!” The fire. The fire that Levi liked to see in Eren’s eyes was there, but he was looking away, anywhere but Levi—the ceiling, the floor, the door, the light switch. “The only time you give a rat’s ass about me is when I’m angry or you want me to go away!”

“Stop putting words in my mouth, brat—“

“I don’t have to. It’s true and you know it.”

Eren looked frustrated, ready to run off at any second. He looked like he was regretting speaking to Levi, dragging him off away from his friends. Why had he taken him to his own apartment, anyway? It wasn’t like they were screaming at each other. He doubted the neighbors could hear this, if they couldn’t hear the goddamn music.

“Jesus, Eren—“

“Don’t ‘Jesus, Eren’ me.”

Eren’s eyes narrowed, but his eyes were still averted. He was staring at the door now, fingers twitching where they supported him against the wall. Levi knew he was going to leave. He was going to walk away and leave him there, angry and confused, again, and he wouldn’t have the chance to make things better again. He’d let his mouth do the talking and scare the brunette away again. He could feel it. He had to prevent it this time.

“Maybe I’m fucking tired of being treated like an ungrateful little kid with no self-control. Maybe I just want you to—“

“Look at me.”

Eren’s back straightened and he snapped to attention at the sudden sense of authority in Levi’s voice. His eyes found Levi’s again, bloodshot from the alcohol and drug in his system, but irises still as brilliantly blue-green as always. He looked fully awake now, like he’d unrealistically ridden out his high in such a short amount of time. He looked scared, maybe intimidated, and that wasn’t what Levi wanted. He didn’t want the abrupt change back to angry that followed, either, though. It lit the fuse to Levi’s anger once again.

“Fuck you,” Eren seethed. “Fuck you, Levi, and _fuck_ —“

Eren took favor in moving his shaking and unsteady hands to grab the older man’s face and press his lips to Levi’s in an uncoordinated kiss, instead of finishing his sentence. Pulling away or fighting it was possibly the last thing on Levi’s mind. He went with instincts, instead, not trusting his own judgment, and leaned in and shut his eyes, found the back of Eren’s neck with his hands, feeling the skin under the brunette hair there, pulling Eren in closer because, dammit, he needed him closer. He’d forgotten what it was like to be so close to someone he actually wanted, no, _needed,_ to be close to. He’d forgotten what it felt like to desperately pull someone closer to himself because he felt like maybe he’d die or malfunction without them as close as humanly possible. Eren reminded him.  

And Eren complied. Levi felt himself sag a little, melt into the spotless white wall behind him, while Eren practically toyed with him, working lips against lips like he’d done this ten million times with his hands behind his back. Like nearly everything, he was ready to blame it on the wine. He couldn’t blame the wine for the way Eren’s tongue swiped over his lip gently, and then aggressively claimed him when granted the access. It was rushed and needy, the way Eren kissed, like he was taking advantage of every moment he could before he pulled away. He was earnest, or maybe trying to make the most of it, assuming Levi would punch him. The stupid kiss had Levi feeling more intoxicated than earlier. A punch was pushed to the back of his mind, along with pushing Eren away or running away. He wasn’t getting out of this so easily.  

Eren pulled back a little too soon for Levi’s liking. The brunette was breathing hard, eyes boring into Levi’s, emotions spilling and swirling around his face like a humorous tornado of thinking-too-damn-much.

“Tastes like cherry vodka and pot,” Levi mused, leaning his head back against the wall as he watched Eren. He looked like he was ready to dart again. “Saw the pot coming from a mile away. Didn’t take you as a cherry vodka kind of person, though. And don’t you dare leave after pulling shit like that, you look like I’m about to gun you down.”

The idiot opened his mouth to speak, probably apologize, but Levi shook his head. He felt sobered now, like Eren had drawn all of the wine and anger out of him with one kiss. Eren was there. He had to make things right, he knew that much. He might not succeed, but he fed off of Eren’s usual determination.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice quieting. He was moderately annoyed by Eren’s look of surprise. “About everything. The ring thing, the entire thing with your mom, how much of an asshole I was after that. Hell, I’m sorry about just now, even if that was mostly you running your mouth.” He couldn’t let himself take all of the blame for everything. “Just . . . _Fuck_. Don’t run off again. Stop fucking avoiding me. Hey. Look at me.”

Eren’s gaze had wandered away once more, but Levi was relieved by the way he made eye contact again, unwavering this time.

“You shouldn’t—“ Eren’s voice was rough, rougher than either of them had expected. He cleared his throat and Levi lamented the loss. “It’s alright. I overre—“

“Oh, don’t even fuckin’ start with me. You didn’t, and we both know that. Don’t argue with me, either. Hanji agrees with me, and Hanji doesn’t lie about shit like that. She’s a wizard at giving good advice but making bad decisions.”

Eren’s dopey grin at Levi’s jab to Hanji caused the breath to hitch in Levi’s throat. He’d been waiting near a goddamn week to see that, or a smile, or any form of happiness from the boy. He’d got it, now, but he wasn’t nearly sated enough to let everything just drop. Eren still wasn’t allowed to leave.

“More.”

Levi pulled him down for another kiss, this one slower than the first, but stilly needy, still hot and burning. The wetness of the kiss, the sloppiness, neither bothered him. He’d committed every movement of Eren’s lips against his to memory, and by the time they’d pulled away he could still feel them against his own. 

Those fucking lips found his neck. It was embarrassing the way his fingers spasmed before gripping the back of Eren’s shirt and he lolled his head away from Eren subconsciously to give him more room to work with. It was embarrassing the way he permitted some god awful noise to pass his lips when Eren flicked his tongue or grazed his teeth across his skin. He was hyperaware of the way Eren gripped his hips, pulling them against his in a sudden surge of confidence the boy hand.

“Shit,” Levi hissed, struggling to breathe, struggling to hold himself up on his own two feet. “You don’t pussyfoot around, do you?”

“Nope,” Eren replied simply, pressing one kiss to Levi’s jaw. “Common sense.”

There was a pause in Eren’s motions, just a slight one, before his hands slid down to the back of Levi’s thighs and he felt himself suddenly hauled up in the air, into Eren’s arms. The trek to the couch was even more of a blur than the trip down the stairs from earlier, but Levi opted to figure it was mostly just from the sheer terror of being held up so high in the air (with Eren’s face pressed up against his chest) by an inebriated man.

“Jesus fuck.” Levi gripped the edge of the couch cushion when his ass hit it, glaring filed daggers at Eren when he laughed and sunk down between his legs, onto his knees. “Don’t do that ever again. I think my boner’s gone. Go home.”

Eren, the bastard, just laughed again. Levi was pulled into another kiss, and he contemplated playing the asshole and pushing Eren away, but Eren’s hands were on his thighs, sliding up and up, only stopping when they reached the hem of Levi’s shirt. He pulled away from the kiss, but only just long enough to rid Levi of it. Levi was mostly oblivious to the way it landed in a messy heap on the floor. And goddammit, those lips were on him again, trailing kisses that tickled, that brushed just lightly against Levi’s skin and made him shudder, trailing kisses down his neck, down his chest, down his torso. At a tongue flicking his navel, he groaned. 

“You’re not allowed to regret this tomorrow,” Levi breathed, hands already flying to Eren’s hair. _Don’t be so fucking eager. This is fucking embarrassing._ “I’ll kick the shit out of you.”

“You aren’t either,” Eren shot back, turquoise eyes lazily trailing up Levi’s torso to see his face again. The smug bastard smirked, fumbling with the button and zipper of Levi’s pants, a little too clumsily. There was no grace in the way he yanked the offensive article of clothing down Levi’s thighs, but there was no grace to be expected. “I have a great track record of recollecting every stupid, embarrassing, drunken thing I do, so nothing to worry about there, at least.”

“How—ah, Jesus—How many times exactly have you done this while shitfaced?”

“None,” Eren replied, fingers delicately, slowly, teasingly wrapping around Levi’s length. Two long, steady strokes (where had Eren even gained so much control after practically shivering like a Chihuahua?) and Levi was already as good as gone. “As far as I can remember, at least.”

“Smartass little—” Any other little insults he’d planned on shooting at Eren died in a garbled mess and were instead replaced with a low hum from the back of his throat. Eren leaned down, taking Levi into his mouth, lips wrapped around him, tongue teasing just slightly before swirling around the glans. The boy hummed appreciably around him, earning a whine from Levi when he teased the slit just slightly.

Levi felt boneless as his back relaxed and his head hit the cushions behind him. His eyes shut without his consent (he’d really wanted to watch Eren go down on him, goddammit) and his fingers gently tugged at Eren’s hair when he’d deemed enough time given to him to tease. Obediently, Eren took more of him in, tonguing the underside of his cock in a way that drew strained moans that resonated through Levi’s throat. He was shameless, all modesty stripped from him, and he sure as hell hoped Eren didn’t mind because he wasn’t about to play quiet.

The chanted swears started as soon as Eren began the repetitive process of pulling back, flicking the head of his length with his tongue, back down again, and repeat. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—_

“Fuck, Eren,” he gasped out, shudders rocking his body. His eyes snapped open, head lifting off of the cushions as Eren pulled off of him. Even when Eren’s hand wrapped around his shaft once more, even though he stroked quickly, practically perfectly, Levi wasn’t satisfied. Not after that. And he wasn’t fucking bashful. “Alright, you little shit.”

“You’re very vocal. Makes me feel like I’m doing something right. Not a very loving tone to use on someone with your dick in his hand, by the way,” Eren murmured, lips pressed and brushing against Levi’s shaft, with that signature shit-eating grin he used every time he set out to piss Levi off. Levi knew exactly how to shut him up, but he wasn’t fast enough. “Maybe I should just do this. Blow your mind for a few minutes with a blowjob and end with an anti-climactic handjob.”

“If you have any hopes of the favor being returned,” Levi muttered behind gritted teeth. Wasn’t as good as Eren’s mouth, but it still felt good. It was still difficult to stay composed. “I suggest you _not_ tease me, Jaeger.”

There was something that lit up in Eren’s eyes, maybe excitement of the potential that Levi was offering; maybe he had a kink for being ordered around. Levi didn’t give a single shit, because Eren’s mouth was on him again and, after adjusting once again, moving at speed faster than before. He was gracious, only pulling back to gratuitously and messily lick from base to tip, and then continue his ministrations. _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ and he sincerely hoped he wasn’t doing that out loud. Every moan, every goddamn embarrassing whimper that left him was enough to handle.

It wasn’t until he’d almost hit his peak, reached the point of coming, did he notice the moans mingling in with his and the way they vibrated around his cock. He gave Eren’s hair another light tug, sort of a warning that he couldn’t verbally transmit to him, willing his hips not to buck and ruin something wonderful. He saw the way Eren’s free hand, the one that wasn’t gripping his thigh for dear life, was working down below, probably between his legs, and Levi couldn’t care if he soiled his damn couch any less.

Levi came when Eren’s eyes met his, pupils blown entirely, arousal evident in the redness of his cheeks, a hint of determination somewhere down inside of him. He came with Eren’s name on his lips, the last syllable probably unintelligibly interrupted by a regrettable noise that he wouldn’t be able to deny in the morning.

He didn’t remember the lapse between his release and ending up nestled safely between the back of the couch and Eren’s chest. Checking to see where his shirt had gone to and if Eren had properly pulled up his pants were the least of his worries. He fell asleep just like Eren had left him, nuzzled into his chest, an arm wrapped around his waist and another under his head, breathing Eren and the musky smell radiating from him.

 

[--X--]

 

Hanji stood in the living room, head throbbing, stomach turning, but a small smile on her lips nonetheless.

It was probably four AM and she’d made a mad dash for the small trash bin in Levi’s room to empty her stomach, as he’d probably expected, of all harmful chemicals, and had been distracted by the light glaring from under the bedroom door. Upon entering the living room, she’d found two men curled into each other, nestled close like sentimental idiots right out of a romcom.

It was cute. She couldn’t disturb them.

Instead, she picked up the wine glasses that she and Levi had left completely unattended and the three bottles lying on the floor and took care of them accordingly. After draping the throw blanket over them and fixing up the button on Levi’s jeans, she scribbled out a little message on a post-it note that she placed on the coffee table, dead in the center, something she was proud of accomplishing. Her work done, she hunted down her shoes and stepped out the front door.

_'Dearest, sweetest, most wonderful Levi,_

_Thank you for the wine! You’re the best. I took care of the wine glasses and_

_bottles so that you wouldn’t bitch. Glad it looks like you and Eren had fun, but_

_hopefully not too much! Stay safe, kiddies. ;)_

_I hope you’re not too hungover. Have fun in the morning._

_Call me if you need me to put you out of your misery._

_-Hanji,_

_your favorite assistant manager’_


	8. The Hangover Ballad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangovers are for the weak, but Levi refuses (or tries to, at least) to conform. Ymir helps Eren take care of the corpses he once called friends in his shitty, trashed apartment. Plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW OKAY i'm really sorry this chapter is so goddamn late. I actually ended up writing over half of it just yesterday. Also sorry for the weird posting time because I have work tonight and I don't like posting really late for whatever reason. 
> 
> My brother sat on my laptop on my second day of work, effectively destroying and rendering my screen completely useless and I'm too technologically inept to extract my files without a damn screen. Computer store was gonna charge me like $50 to get the new screen installed after I waited for it to get here so I was like nah and did it myself. And then I realized my computer itself was all fucked up so I had to go through the lengthy process of extracting all of my shit and reformatting my computer. The break I took from writing actually gave me a weird case of writer's block for this fic in particular, so I hope you guys understand why it's so late coming uwu 
> 
> IN THE MEAN TIME, it's come to my attention that the tag #fic: Art of War is being used on tumblr and let me just say I almost pissed myself I was so excited. I'm tracking it now, and you can find me on tumblr at fantastiboo.tumblr.com (for halloween of course) ♥
> 
>  
> 
> boywitch.tumblr.com !

 

Like many things, Levi cursed the daylight. Levi cursed the clobbering in his head, the twisting in his stomach, the infuriating way he felt both like an anvil bolted to the ground and a feather that could be blown away with the next draft of wind. Levi cursed the way he felt close to barfing when there was a slight dip in the couch cushion, the way gravity pulled him down and churned his stomach into an acidic witch’s cauldron ready to blow, and the godforsaken asshole responsible for it. He cursed the temporary blindness that paralyzed him completely upon opening his eyes, hindering all of his senses, causing a ringing in his ears that he couldn’t simply ignore. Cursed the gentle fingertips that brushed over his hair and moved it out of his face, even though they really had no effect on his well-being, he just cursed them because they were there and they were things that existed.

Ah, and so was the joy of hangover-hood.

Alcohol sang a sweet duet with the Hangover (if you could consider nausea, splitting headaches, a bewildered equilibrium and the sudden fatal allergic reaction to sunlight sweet) to their patrons; a song that went along the lines of, “Regret me and say you’ll quit me in the morning, but come crawling back like the bitch you are next time.”

“Here’s some Advil if you need it,” he heard Eren’s voice murmur, quiet and gentle like he was so used to speaking to the undead. “Orange juice or water?”

“Water,” he replied, or at least tried to. His throat was scratchy, voice coming out ragged and tortured-sounding. He groaned, holding out his hand for the pills he was promised. Eren dutifully placed them in his palm. “And a trash can. Should be one by the fridge.”

“I hope you don’t mean you want the water in the trash can.”

Eren’s teasing was only met by a garbled, unintelligible response.

Levi could hear the brunette clumsily banging around in the kitchen, but didn’t risk a greater pain in yelling directions at him. The asshole knew where the cups were, even if it did sound like he’d just dropped one in the sink (if the hurried, mumbled apologies and reassurance that nothing was broken was anything to judge by). The asshole knew where the water was, even though it sounded like he’d spilled a little (and hurried to call that he was cleaning it up). The asshole . . . Didn’t even seem like he was slightly hungover.

A glass of water was set onto the coffee table and Levi turned—very, very slowly—to grab it, toss the pills into his mouth and force them down with the water. He could usually manage downing them without the help of liquid, but his throat was arid in the most horrid sense.

“Okay, but what kind of _devil magic_ have you gotten yourself into?” he demanded of Eren, peering up at the hovering brunette with one eye. “Share your secret before I castrate you.”

At least Eren had the decency to look taken aback.

“Devil magic?”

“How in sweet Odin’s shit are you not as physically impaired as me and probably the rest of the drunken monkeys in your apartment?”

“Ah.” Eren grinned a little, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Levi. He reached to grab the glass of water from Levi and place it safely back on the coffee table before he dropped it. The older man tried to formulate some form of thanks, but he only grunted. “I’ve never really had trouble with hangovers. And you know, now that you mention it, I should probably go check on everyone. Distribute hangover diet of liquids and Advil. Hide the alcohol because Jean’s stupid enough to try and go back to it.”

“I always assumed you had no social life, considering you follow me around like an obedient slave or something.”

“I don’t.” Eren grimaced. “Sometimes I hang out with them on weekends and stuff, but it’s mostly just Mikasa and Armin . . .” He shrugged a bit, but his grin was back. “I’m a slave that does absolutely nothing for you?”

“Suppose you’re right. The only thing you’re good for is a blowjob on the side. After all, you did nearly break my dishes, and that was just for a glass of water. You’d be a terrible house slave, but perhaps a sex slave instead.”

Levi opened that one eye again to watch as Eren’s face reddened, gaze averted, fingers working together nervously in something akin to embarrassment, which was an utter contradiction to the confidence the boy had the previous night. Levi wouldn’t say he was a completely different person when he was fucked up; he was certainly always Eren. Perhaps it hadn’t even been the intoxication. There was a hope, somewhere in Levi’s mind that he wasn’t willing to readily admit to, that Eren just kind of hid particularly strong confidence for moments like that.

Shamelessly, he thought it was _sexy._

Eren’s blush and bashfulness right now, though, was adorable and endearing and adjectives he’d never really thought about using. He wasn’t a poet, and he’d _had_ the understanding that he wasn’t much of a romantic either.

When Eren contributed nothing to the conversation, Levi spoke up for him.

“I was impressed, though,” he said, finally rolling over onto his back and opening both eyes despite his better judgment. He turned his head to watch Eren, the blatant embarrassment on his features turning from mortified embarrassment to curiosity, a silent question. “I always thought you were pretty gutsy, though I did not expect to be manhandled and blown all in one night.”

Eren’s embarrassment was back, of course, predictably, cheeks on fire, eyes looking anywhere but Levi’s. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead with his palm. He emitted a whine, shooting a weak glare at the older man. “You don’t have to fucking tease me. Just pretend nothing happened if that’s what you want—“

“That’s not what I want.”

Levi successfully reigned in Eren’s attention.

The brunette didn’t speak, didn’t ask some stupid question like Levi expected him to. When the older man reached his hand out to brush his fingers over Eren’s cheekbone, down to his lips to run his thumb over his lips, pushed the same fingers back behind Eren’s ear and into his hair, the boy’s eyes slipped shut and he leaned into the touch, welcoming it. _So easy to read,_ Levi thought, before placing his palm on the back of Eren’s head and pulling him, with little effort because Eren simply moved along with him, not a care in the world. Instead of finding Eren’s lips exactly, though, Levi’s mouth met the corner of them.

The minor miscalculation had Levi grumbling and Eren laughing (softly), and Eren pulled back just slightly to readjust the path for Levi and re-attempt the initially planned kiss.

Even though the kiss from the night before was a memory that melted together with certain parts shining brighter than the rest, Levi knew it wasn’t quite the same. Eren’s lips were chapped—something he hadn’t noticed before—and this wasn’t a needy, anger-fueled kiss shoved at him by a begrudgingly aroused twenty-one year old with a hyperactive libido. While the brunette probably still had a hyperactive libido, and while Levi could confirm that the sparking, burning sensation he’d felt last time hadn’t been the wine, the urgency of their lips as they effortlessly worked off of each other wasn’t the same. Instead, it was more intimate, sort of careful, slow and enticing in its own way. Eren’s tongue flitted across Levi’s, across his lips, playfully over his teeth because Eren was playful and it wouldn’t be quite right if he wasn’t.

When Levi pulled back, with his hand dropping to the nape of Eren’s neck, Eren hardly moved. He stayed close to Levi’s lips, so close, eyes slipping open to meet the older man’s again. He grinned sheepishly, and Levi snorted, messing up his hair—even though it wasn’t like it needed his help.

“Morning breath,” Levi pointed out. “You had the time to medicate me but not brush your teeth.”

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d appreciate me using _your_ tooth brush, and I haven’t even been up to my apartment yet,” Eren reasoned, shrugging a little bit and resting his head on the cushion. He was still closely in Levi’s proximity and showed no signs of moving, and Levi supposed he didn’t mind all that much. “By the way, are you going to point out my breath every time we kiss? Is that a thing I should start waiting for?”

“Yes.” Levi nodded and smirked at Eren’s over-dramatic groan of anguish. “Stupid question for a stupid—”

Only somewhat against his will, whatever he was saying was lost thanks to another kiss. Eren had an infuriating way with cutting off people (namely Levi), and sometimes even himself, with cheap shit like this and he probably knew that Levi couldn’t fight back. His currently weak state didn’t really help. He felt like a dead fish, incapable of reciprocating with the proper eagerness, something that might be able to match Eren’s.

“Fuck your mouth,” he sighed softly, no real venom in his words.

Eren gave him a crooked smile this time, a smile Levi wanted photographed and hung on every wall in his shitty, tiny apartment.

“Well, if you insist.”

Levi groaned, resting his forehead against Eren’s, resisting the all-too-tempting urge to stick his tongue out at the young brunette who was grinning at him again. “As appetizing as that offer is, I really don’t want to experience a hangover blowjob. Can’t appreciate it to the fullest, I’m sure.”

“Maybe when you’re not too busy being a _total_ weakling to the side-effects of alcohol,” Eren hummed, voice a little too cocky, a little too teasing, and Levi decided he was glad that the confidence hadn’t been a one-time thing. “You were so coherent last night, I’m almost _impressed_ that you’re so fucked up this fine, beautiful, sunny morning.”

Levi grumbled, displeased with the idea of anything about that morning being considered ‘fine’ or ‘beautiful’. Maybe later, when he could think about it and not feel ever-present pain or mild disorientation, he could think it was ‘fine’ or ‘beautiful’ and share the sentiment with Eren. Not now, though.

“By the way,” the brunette said softly, nervousness back, but dampened. “I . . . Jesus, I’ve never been good at this. Never exactly been in this situation before, either.”

“Blown a guy, wasted and high, and had to deal with it?”

Eren shot him a look.

“Feelings, Levi. I’m not sure if you have them or not, but I’m talking about feelings.”

“I had feelings once,” he mused, twirling his hand in a showy, melodramatic way, fingers giving the slightest wiggle to accentuate his sarcasm. He didn’t see if it gave Eren the desired effect, because he shut his eyes. _Shit,_ he was embarrassed. He knew what this was. “But then you came along and fucked that all up. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“That I feel like saying that I like you would feel insignificant, like a fifth grader confessing to the upperclassman he’s been ogling for a few days. Dammit, I’m trying to be serious here, and you’re not allowed to make me laugh.”

“You mean you’re _not_ a fifth grader?”

“Levi.” Eren’s tone had him blinking his eyes open, wondering if he’d gone too far, made too much of a joke out of it. The boy’s eyes were pleading, begging for something to work with, his cheeks red, and he could see the way Eren had his arms wrapped around himself; insecurity incarnate. “Please.”

“M’sorry.”

His fingers found Eren’s hair again, trying to recreate the comforting motion he’d made earlier.

“I know what you’re trying to say. As you can see, I am obviously not very graceful either.” With his free hand, he motioned to himself, the joke at his own expense, and the slight upturning of Eren’s lips made it worth it. “I think I get the gist of your _feelings_ , as you call them, and I recognize my own. For you. Jesus Christ. Can we give them names later? That’s so much easier. Unless you want to just recite ‘I don’t hate you’s to each other or something like confessions of love. We could do that.”

Eren leaned in for a kiss before Levi could ramble anymore, before he could shoot something back like he’d done just seconds before and, _I’ll probably kill him if he makes this a habit. I’m not allowed to have any goddamn weaknesses._ Eren’s lips _were_ a weakness for him, though, because his main train of thought was derailed and crashing unceremoniously somewhere off the east coast of where-the-fuck-ever. And it was awesome.

“I’m gonna barf in your mouth,” he whispered against Eren’s lips. “You never got the trash can.”

It was an effective way to break a kiss, because Eren was pulling away from him and tearing into the kitchen for the trash can with speed that should’ve been illegal for a morning after.

 

[--X--]

 

Eren’s apartment was an utter disaster.

No, usually it was some level of disaster unless Levi cleaned it and threatened his manhood (which had only happened once, and that was weeks ago so, really, it had been a bit of a mess before all of Eren’s friends came over anyway), but now it was a major, nation-wide disaster that threatened the prosperity of the human race on a large scale.

It was hard to describe, from where Eren was standing. The floor was littered with chips and chip bags, socks and shoes, ashes, half-empty bottles of alcohol that at least had their tops and corks in, some shattered glass that looked vaguely like Sasha’s prized pipe, and some blood nearby. He wouldn’t have been surprised if maybe she’d punched whoever was responsible, or maybe someone just tripped and hit their head on the corner of his coffee table. There was something that looked a little bit like vomit and he was going to pretend that didn’t exist until he was forced to get too close.

Hopefully nobody was dead.

Connie was curled up in a very uncomfortable-looking position on the loveseat, cradling Sasha’s purse like a stuffed animal. Sasha, herself, lie on the floor beside the loveseat, fingers grasping a crumpled piece of paper that looked vaguely like scores for a card game or board game. A quick glance to the kitchen allowed him to see the way Bertholdt and Reiner were uncomfortably stuffed underneath his kitchen table, Bert taking up the majority of the room and pressing Reiner into the wooden legs. Annie, Mikasa, Armin, Marco and Jean weren’t in sight, but Ymir stood by his refrigerator, staring bleakly at the contents and scratching her chest.

“Your fridge is sad,” she mumbled, fishing out a leftover container of spaghetti (which he hadn’t dared to make; he’d only poured it out of the can and added salt, really) and a fork from the dish drainer. She opened it and shoveled a few cold forkfuls into her mouth. “Do you have any fuckin’ pain relievers? Narcotics, maybe? I have a headache worse than Satan’s sweaty hemorrhoids and our Sonic doesn’t do any of that random drug testing bullshit anymore. I could afford a Hydrocodone right about now.”

Eren laughed and shook his head, maneuvering around her to open the cabinet next to her. He plucked the bottle of ibuprofen from a small clear tub sitting on a shelf before shutting it and shaking a few of the small reddish pills into his hand. He held them out to Ymir, and she graciously accepted. “It’s off-brand, but still as effective as the expensive stuff. The R.O. works on the sink, and since you don’t look too close to death, wanna help me get around some water around for the rest of the shitfaced zombies?”  

“Not really,” she mumbled, but after she fumbled with a clean-looking solo cup, filled it with water and downed her medication, she gathered more together and started filling them up. “Reiner broke the pipe, by the way. I bet you saw the glass. _That_ was some funny shit you missed.”

She paused her actions just for a moment, setting two half-full cups of water on the counter to rake a critical eye over him.

“You got laid.”

Eren felt his cheeks warm immediately and Ymir smirked.

“Totally got laid,” she murmured, turning back to the cups and R.O. filter. “You’ve got that fuckin’ smug look that guys get when they get laid. I’m jealous. Only not, because it kind of looked like grump-shit from downstairs was going to tear you limb from limb and toss you off the top of the complex, really. I’m surprised you’re not covered in bruises and bite marks. Looked like some rough, screaming hate-sex was coming, to me. By the way, does he work at that convenience store across the street from First National? He looks familiar.”

“I didn’t get laid.” Eren scrunched up his nose as he haphazardly shoved a few boxes and empty cups into his trash can. “Not exactly. And yeah, he does.”

“Okay, but you totally got _something_ , and I think that counts. I guess it went well, then?”

He nodded, almost absently, as he gathered the various bottles in the living room and placed them on the table, stepping around Bert’s legs and making sure to not shake the table too much. The longer they slept, the better for him, because he had every intention of making it back to Levi’s apartment soon.

 “Yeah. I feel like such a fuck after the whole thing last night, though, only to turn around and fix things. I just kind of . . . _Went_ for it, and things worked out.”

Ymir nodded to inform him she was still listening. She had out ten half-full cups on the counter, not including her own, and re-counted, doing the blurry math in her head to figure out if she’d done it right. She dumped one out and innocently placed it in the dish drainer before turning back to Eren. He got a full view of how red her eyes were, how tired and sick she looked, and he realized she was just good at suppressing signs of a hangover. Really, she could’ve gone to work like this and just kept quiet, said she didn’t get enough sleep. Levi needed lessons from her.

She helped him distribute cups of water to the four that they could see. He gently shook each of them awake and forced them to down the ibuprofen before allowing them to return to rest, and Reiner didn’t hesitate to crawl out from under the table, if just to get far enough away to get comfortable. His face greened and Eren decided he didn’t need to move much, anyway.

“You guys got pretty fucked up without me, didn’t you?” he mused, grabbing two more and heading towards his bedroom. He _really_ hoped his assumptions were wrong about the inhabitants of that room in particular. “Jesus Christ. I’m never leaving you guys unattended again.”

Ymir followed him with two more, leaving one on the kitchen counter.

“Hell yeah. I’m surprised there’s any fuckin’ booze left, and I don’t think we left Sasha with a damn ounce.”

“She’s never going to attend another party here again because of all of you.”

“Tough shit.”

The door of his bedroom was opened and they poked their heads in.

Eren’s bed was a queen, one he’d snagged at a garage sale with Mikasa before moving out at a pretty cheap price, box spring and all. It wasn’t one, though, that he’d suggest shoving three grown men into, even if one of the three was on the smaller side.

He was mortified to find Marco, Armin and Jean all piled in his bed, sound and snug under his covers. Armin was in the middle, looking far too happy in his sleep and oblivious of the impending pain that would come when he stirred. Marco was nuzzled into Armin, covers pulled up over his shoulders as he assumed something that looked like a painful fetal position. Jean was sprawled out, a bare arm and leg hanging off of the side of the mattress, uncovered. Eren counted one, two, definitely three pairs of underwear flung around his bedroom, two pairs of pants (he thought he might see a third peeking out from under his bed), three shirts (one being Armin’s undershirt), some socks, those were definitely Jean’s shoes—

“I’m going to burn my sheets. My blankets. My mattress. Fuck, I’ll burn my pillows too. Anything Jean’s naked ass _might_ have touched. You are all welcome to join me in a lively bonfire tonight.”

“I think you’re overlooking the important part,” Ymir said, straight-faced although the way her eyebrow twitched showed how close she was to losing it, “I think your blondie might have gotten laid _double time_. Here I was, all impressed for you and shit, but he’s got your ass beat.”

“No. No, I refuse.”

Eren grimaced and inched his way into his bedroom, giving his bed an apologetic gaze as he sat the two cups in his hand down on the night stand. He opened the pill bottle and fished some out, handing them to Ymir (because, realistically, all he wanted to do right then was push Jean out of the bed and hope his headache was nearly as bad as the woe he felt for his bed), before they started the routine of waking the three up and forcing pills down their throats before leaving them be until they were ready to stir for themselves. Armin looked far too pleased when it was his turn, far too innocent and absolutely oblivious to the two-toned asshole curling up to his side in a fashion similar to Marco’s position.

_You poor, poor soul._

They left the room, Ymir holding her extra cup while Eren retrieved the one she’d left on the counter. She gazed around the living room one more time, before raising an eyebrow at Eren.

“So, where’s your sister and that blonde with the nose?”

“Bathroom,” he said, not missing a beat. He grinned at the perplexed look she shot him. “No, trust me, I’ve drank with them enough over the past years to just _know_. It’s unpreventable. They’re always in the bathroom.”

They returned through the bedroom, carefully stepping around the clothes on the ground (mostly because Eren couldn’t tell what was Jean’s and what wasn’t, and really, he just didn’t want to take any chances). Opening the door to the bathroom was something of a feat, as one of them had shoved a shoe on the other side as a way to stop the door from being opened, probably by one of the three dead to the world in Eren’s bed. Annie had done this a few times before, though, so Eren used a well-practiced method of pushing and pulling a few times before giving the door a shove and sending the shoe rolling back.

Annie and Mikasa were draped unceremoniously, and rather uncomfortably-looking, in the bath tub. The back of the tub was slightly slanted and Mikasa took advantage of that, leaning back with Annie sprawled out on top of her, one arm over the side of the tub that Eren suspected was probably numb by now, judging by the indentions it made in her skin from how long she’d been in that position.

He didn’t bother giving them ibuprofen. He dug around for a bottle he had hidden in the back of the cabinet below the sink. They refused to take anything but Midol for hangovers, and he heard it worked wonders, but the shit was too expensive to give to everyone.

“Med and water time,” he said, giving Annie’s shoulder a gentle shake. She mumbled something in response, propping herself up to glare at the two of them and hold her head. Mikasa stirred when Annie did, opening up one eye long enough to register that it was Eren in front of them and not some stranger. After she had both eyes securely closed again, they both presented their palms to him for the promised tablets. He presented them both with two, but only one cup. Annie downed hers, plus a few extra gulps, and Mikasa finished up the other half. Then they were shooed out and instructed to turn off the light. “Yes, yes, you’re welcome.”

“Adorable.”

Eren’s eyebrows raised at the slight bitterness in Ymir’s voice as he gently shut the door behind them. She’d mentioned being jealous before, simply because Eren had gotten a little bit of action, but now she sounded it.

She sounded miserable.

“They’ve been like that since high school,” he said quietly, taking the solo cup from her hands and repeating the evasive maneuvers to avoid touching any of the clothes on his floor and make it out alive and uninfected with Jean-germs. “You sound jealous.”

“I am,” she replied bluntly, and came just short of slamming the door behind herself when they made it out of his bedroom. “I just—“

“Remember when I said I just went for it with Levi?” he asked, turning and effectively cutting off whatever she was going to say, probably pertaining to the cashier she’d drunkenly rambled on about with no end the night before. Ymir had to be clear on where this was going anyway. “Have you tried that?”

“Well. No.”

“Have you tried _anything_?”

“Not really.” Ymir sighed. She was looking increasingly more irritated. “I don’t really know anything about her. I don’t know how.”

“It might not work for everyone, but if any of your other attempts have failed, I’d say try it. I mean, I know Annie and Mikasa got together because Annie’s blunt as fuck and didn’t give off mixed signals.”

She grumbled noncommittally and turned on her heel, stalking back out to the living room. Eren didn’t know if she’d actually listened to a word he’d said, but he didn’t dwell. He wanted to clean up at least _some_ of the horrendous mess his apartment was and get back to Levi as soon as he could.

 

[--X--]

 

Eren made the perfect nurse.

Levi was ordered to strictly bed rest (or, really, couch rest, because he was too lazy and queasy for a good chunk of the day to move, and Eren wasn’t willing to carry him, afraid he might drop him). If he needed something, Eren was up from his spot beside him, probably laughing stupidly at a terrible joke on the television, and darting off to get it for him. It made Levi dizzy how fast he could move sometimes. His over-eagerness was welcomed, and even a little endearing now.

Levi had thrown up once, but that was to be expected, and luckily it had been while Eren was playing doctor with his friends. Upon finding out that Levi had made it to the bathroom to piss, wash his face and brush his teeth afterward, Eren had decided to wait on him hand and foot.

There was a gratuitous number of slave jokes made, and much blushing on Eren’s part. It was too easy.

Eren flopped down on the couch beside him one more time, gingerly handing Levi a cold water bottle and crossing his legs. Levi snorted, but accepted it nonetheless, twisting the cap off and dragging out a long gulp of the crisp water.

“You keep acting like you’re gonna break me. I’m fine now, you know. Puked and hydrated. All is well. And you don’t have to keep hovering unless you just want to. You don’t have some duty to fulfill.”

At Eren’s slightly crestfallen look, Levi rolled his eyes and ran a hand through the boy’s hair.

“You can stay, though. I’m not saying I want you to leave.”

Eren’s smile, his light, his bouncy goddamn attitude was back all at once. He was quick to lean against Levi where he fit, where Levi had found the brunette felt like he belonged. He really did. He was easily comparable to a dog; one Levi wouldn’t mind owning, if you could say that. He was so easy to read, so expressive, so determined in everything he did. He was quick to anger, and just as quick to cower. He was a strangely balanced person, equal parts making him predictable, depending on his mood.

There were times when he pulled things that Levi wasn’t expecting.

“So, it might be a little early, but maybe we should do something.” This was one of those times.

“What do you mean?” Levi arched an eyebrow, peering down at Eren. “Like, right now? Because I was under the understanding that I was not allowed to leave the couch unless I needed to use the bathroom.”

“No, no,” Eren dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “Like . . . Saturday or something.”

Levi felt his lips twitch up, but it wasn’t a smirk or a grin or even a sneer. It was a smile, and _goddamn him. Goddamn him, fuck him, I’m going to kill him._ He hid it in Eren’s hair, before the boy could look up at him, and of course he didn’t question it because he was Eren and he usually just went with whatever flow was thrown his way.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Eren Jaeger?” Levi jeered, slinging an arm around Eren’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “I think we’re going a little backwards. Making out, sexual activities, and _then_ the first date.”

When he’d gotten his smile under control and down to a simmering smirk, he pulled back to let Eren direct a pout right up at him.

“Do you not want to?”

“I never said that. You’re setting a record for making assumptions today.”

“You’re teasing me. Maybe I don’t want to go on a date after all.”

Levi rolled his eyes while Eren weakly pulled away from him with no intentions of actually getting away. He poked Eren’s side in just the right spot, snorting when Eren let out an atrocious laugh-whine before falling back into his place against Levi. He turned his eyes to the television, although it didn’t look like, from Levi’s perspective, that he was really paying attention. He had his thinking face on.

“I can smell the gears in your mind letting out smoke; slow down before you catch on fire.”

“Shut up.” Eren grinned up at him anyway. “How about a drive-in movie? We can take some blankets and pillows and chill in the bed of your truck. How does that sound?”

“Cheesy as fuck.”

Eren grumbled and slumped against Levi as some sign of surrender. The older man supposed maybe he’d gone a little too far, had a little too much fun teasing Eren, so he sighed, running his hand through his brown hair again and pressed a small, chaste kiss to his temple.

“Sounds fine, brat,” he murmured against Eren’s skin. “But you’re picking the movie.”  


	9. Twizzlers Are The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Levi is sexually attracted to office chairs!" Eren yelled from the back of said older man's truck, but joke's on him, because he's still not getting that fucking slushie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making you guys wait so long!! there's been some shit happen and this chapter just wouldn't write itself like I wanted to, but thank you all for at least being a little patient with me!!  
> also I can really blame pokemon x for my lateness tbh 
> 
> anyway, there are only two more chapters left, and I'd like to thank everyone for sticking with me for so long, and through my miniature hiatus. I doubt I'll be done writing ereri after I'm done, considering I have about four other fanfics/series i'm working on. <3
> 
> A little more smut in this chapter. I'm sorry to those of you who were hoping this'd be like super porn central, for i am only an eel and i get embarrassed very easily. over writing porn.  
> I'd like to take a moment to tell everyone how awesome my betas are and how much I love them, too. 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at boywitch.tumblr.com, and I track the tag #fic: art of war !  
> religiously because i flip the fuck out when people use my tag (in a good way)

 

The feeling of Levi’s ass comfortably hitting the faux leather of a fresh, firm, _silent_ office chair was one of the most gratifying sensations the man had ever experienced. There was that one time when he’d kicked a football player into unconsciousness in a dead Wal-Mart parking lot during his junior year, but he wasn’t sure that quite trumped _this_. It was incredible, really, being able to turn in his chair and not receive a nails-on-the-chalkboard-esque banshee scream. Negative, all that graced his ears was the sound of his own clothing ruffling as he turned, and the very slight strain of fresh materials that had yet to be broken in.

That and the sound of the printer, but that one was inevitable. It never stopped.

He had personally disposed of the three shitty chairs that had previously wasted space in his and Hanji’s small office. He had hauled them out of the store one by one, held over his head proudly like beasts he was taking down for prize, and that prize happened to be brand new chairs from Staples that had taken their sweet, sweet time showing up. He hadn’t gotten anything too expensive, just expensive enough to make him feel like he was finally putting store money to good use. It was the middle of the year and he still had a hefty budget left over. He could splurge, and new chairs were Christmas gifts that would continue to give (for at least another year or two).

And as Levi sunk into the chair and made himself comfortable, listening to the lulling hum of the radio playing throughout the store and the occasional ‘ding’ of the motion sensor that alerted them when customers entered, the overpowering sound of footsteps clambering back to the office was impossible to ignore.

“Levi’s got a boyfriend!” Hanji sang with utter glee, gripping the door frame of the office entry, the widest grin Levi had ever seen on her face and the most devious look in her eyes. She’d said it loud enough that he heard a squeal from Petra as she was clocking in and some excited form of acknowledgment from Krista, who was waiting to clock out. “So, honey bun, tell me, was your night more of a Nicholas Sparks kind of experience, or are we teetering close to some E. L. James shit?”

“No, I’d say Stephen King.”  Levi turned his chair ( _God, yes, that was such a nice feeling_ ) to focus his attention on the offending women now crowded in front of his desk. “ _Heeeeeere’s_ Johnny.”  

While Krista, of all people, laughed, Petra made a face.

 “Seriously,” the strawberry blonde insisted, seating herself on the edge of Levi’s desk and refusing to move from her spot. The lunch rush was over, so he’d give her about four minutes of pestering before he shoved all three women out of his office.  “What haven’t you told us?”

“Well, you two know about Eren from what I’ve told you!” Hanji piped in, grinning far too mischievously. Levi groaned. “And how he’s super precious and obviously head over heels for Levi and stuff. Well—“

“I have a date on Saturday.”

He couldn’t afford Hanji going on a verbal diarrhea rampage so close to the lunch rush second wind. Krista would never leave, and Petra would never take her place behind the cash register. His statement, simply in itself, cut Hanji’s escapade off immediately though, and three sets of eyes, all different colors, were set on him with a concentration that was overwhelming. They all shared a similar look with a name he couldn’t place; excited, but for some reason doubtful. And then, of course, upon realizing that, no, he was not joking or bluffing or only trying to get them to shut up, Hanji and Petra were letting out shrill _noises_ that were too close to shrieks of excitement for an early Monday afternoon (especially considering he’d ended up staying up far too late because Eren wanted to talk and talk and _talk_ about stupid things like the girl named Ymir that helped him take care of his idiot friends, or Mikasa’s—his sister’s—dog).  

“What are you two gonna do?”

“Where are you going?”

“Romantic dinner or something?”

“Maybe you’re going to the lake! Or the beach!”

“Oooh, nice thinking, Petra. The beach would be _very_ nice for a first date.”

“Unless you two have had more dates and haven’t told us?”

“I’ll have me a couple of men to kill if that’s the case.”

“They’d never be able to go on dates again after that, though!”

“ . . . True enough.”

Levi groaned and willed his new, perfect chair to go Decepticon on him and snap him in half. That would’ve been much easier to handle, a much easier and simpler way to die, rather than listen to Petra and Hanji speak more _at_ him than _to_ him about his own date. He was relieved that at least Krista only seemed mildly interested, like maybe she was distracted of something of her own. She wasn’t losing her shit.

“Okay, shut up, fucking harpies,” he grumbled. They grinned. Fuckers. “We’re going to a drive-in theater that some of his friends work at or something. They give him discounted drinks, whatever.”

“Car sex,” was, of course, Hanji’s immediate reaction. Krista squeaked and covered her reddening face while Petra stuck her tongue out. “Take protection, alright? I won’t be there to button your pants up for you again this time. And remember not to do it in the bed of the truck, because someone might see—“

“Get out.”

Levi’s patience had certainly dwindled down to the point to where he was ready to start threatening Hanji’s career, and maybe even her life. Maybe he could get creative, like he usually did when his voice dropped down to dangerous octaves and he rose from his chair and Hanji’s eyebrows shot up, even despite her still devious grin. 

“Oh, Levi, you know how I love it when you get all deep and dangerous like tha—“

“Out!”

Hanji and Petra were almost sent squabbling out the door, already muffling their laughter and apologies, but Krista, the poor girl, the tiny thing who really hadn’t done anything wrong but had accidentally gotten in the mix of it all, who had already stepped out the door to head home but was peeking her head in through the door once again, spoke up. She had a meek little smile on her face, and probably felt like she was going to push Levi’s buttons again, but even so, she said, “I have a date on Saturday, too, if it makes you feel better.”

The silence of the room in that moment was infinite.

“Holy shit, Krista!”

“You go girl! Who’s the lucky guy?”

“He better treat you right. We’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t, you know.”

“What are _you two_ gonna do?”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

The two women continued to slam Krista with questions and threats to her date that he doubted the person would ever hear about, at least not from Krista. She appeared to sink closer to the ground with every poke and prod, and she wrung her hands together with embarrassment and nerves, from what Levi could see. She shot him a look that screamed, “Save me!” but also a tint of, if he looked close enough, “You totally owe me, you short, grumpy bastard.”

“It’s not a guy, is it?” Levi finally asked, effectively cutting Hanji and Petra off. They both seemed to consider this while the redness in Krista’s face finally seemed to near hazardous. _Payback for that ounce of sass. And for not saying anything until I almost had them out._ “Stalker chick, right?”

“She’s not a stalker!” Krista squeaked, voice firm even despite the pitch. “Her name is Ymir, a-and I think she’s really sweet, and maybe a little shy or bad with words, but that’s cute! You guys are just hateful.”

The name piqued Levi’s interest, and he recalled Eren telling him about Ymir’s girl problems.

_Well, at least she hadn’t pussied out._

His method, too, certainly wasn’t the saving that Krista had wanted, but when Petra and Hanji’s eyes were on her, she was already speeding out of sight and to the store’s front doors.

“I’m going home! I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

The motion sensor sounded that she’d passed the door, and the two women stood beside Levi’s desk, eyes boring into the empty space where Krista had been, before slowly drifting to each other’s. Hanji’s lips were pressed tight; Petra’s parting and closing a few times, before she heard a customer calling for assistance. While Petra raced out to the front desk, Hanji stalked back to her own desk, feet dragging and shoulders slouching. After sinking down into her chair, which she took a moment to appreciate to the highest degree, she dug around in her back pocket and flung a bill at Levi.

He smirked, catching the twenty and smoothing it out onto his desk.

“Told you I was right about that one.”

 

[--X--]

 

The theater wasn’t too full, and that was excellent considering Eren hated waiting longer than necessary in the concession line. He hated feeling like a packed sardine in a _parking lot_ of all places, and, really, he had absolutely no intentions of being the definition of family friendly.  He’d convinced Levi into the concession stand after many promises of eating his treats on the way back out to the truck, rather than in it or even on the bed, because Levi certainly wouldn’t stand for any crumbs _anywhere_. Something about how expensive the truck was, and how Eren better lick up any messes he made, _whatever, whatever._

The building resembled the parking lots; the people picking snacks and requesting drinks were few and far between, and only Bertholdt stood behind the counter, managing awkward small talk with the customers and fumbling with boxes of candy.  

The week had, so far, gone without incident. He’d been over to Levi’s apartment a little more than was probably welcome, but he’d decided even before that he didn’t give a fuck and if it bothered Levi, he’d probably end up kicked out eventually. It never happened, even if the older man _did_ have a strong tendency to throw around empty threats, or at least threats that he sincerely hoped were empty. He wasn’t ready to wake up without genetalia, not yet. He’d realized immediately that he wasn’t going to get off easy for anything just because of his new status as alleged boyfriend.

Something about that made him happy.

“No, you can’t have a fucking slushie in the bed of my truck, Eren,” Levi grumbled, pointedly glaring at the slushie machine that he forced Eren past. “You are so fucking invalid that you’ll end up with that shit _everywhere_. I very may well end up knocking some of your teeth out if you do, and I’d hate to return you to your mother snaggle-toothed.”

“Erwin told me you totally dig my teeth anyway,” Eren sang, smirking, not fighting Levi’s hand off of his arm as he was guided away from everything good in the world because, really, there was no point. “Something about how straight they are.”

“I’m never speaking to him again. Ever. Fuck Erwin. May he be alone and sexless forever.”

“Dude deserves a break for putting up with you. And me, of course. But mostly you.”

“There is never too much me.”

He finally shook away from Levi’s grip and worked his way to the counter to stare at the boxes and bags of candy behind the glass. He jabbed a finger in their direction, shooting a pointed glance at the older man. He must have understood the silent pleading, a wordless question regarding whether or not he was allowed to have _anything_ worth buying at an overpriced snack bar, with the way he criticized every option on the shelves. If Eren was truthful, there was nothing particularly worth buying and, really, they should’ve just stopped at a convenience store because it wasn’t like they were going to do a border-state level of car inspection _just_ to make sure they didn’t smuggle any entirely legal Milkyways into the parking lot.

Levi finally nodded a little and gestured to the Twizzlers.

“Those are fine.”

“Oh, hell yes.”

There was a sharp pinch delivered to the tender skin of his hip and he squeaked (yes, he actually squeaked, _and in public,_ he realized), forced to move forward in line.

Bert shifted a little awkwardly from behind the counter, his usually fake smile a little less forced today upon seeing a familiar face. He tossed his customary greeting at Eren, and then a similar one to Levi, more or less attempting to introduce himself, but he fell short and, in fact, seemed to _recede_ into himself, if possible. He actually shrank, a feat Eren had previously thought impossible, at the way Levi looked him over, inspected him in a fashion akin to the way he had picked out a candy worthy of their money and the back of his truck. Eren fought back a snort, instead rolling his eyes and tapping the glass of the counter. Bert’s attention was hesitantly drawn away from Levi and back to Eren. He visibly relaxed.  

“Twizzlers and a large Mountain Dew for me, and probably coffee or something for Hades over here,” Eren said, grinning a little bit. “How are you, by the way? Where’s Ernie?”

There was a small pause where he was sure Levi was going to comment on the ‘Hades’ thing, but instead, the two of them studied the way Bert’s face darkened to an odd shade of tan-red.

“The Bert and Ernie joke is so old, Eren . . . “

“Doesn’t make it any less funny, and you totally can’t play off the way you two were all lovingly tangled up under my kitchen table,” Eren informed him, offering nothing more than an absent shrug. “Seriously, though, where is Reiner?”

“Projection room,” Bert muttered, shoving the package of Twizzlers at him before setting to work filling the Mountain Dew. After confirming that Levi did, indeed, want coffee, they were both suited up with their drinks and Eren with his candy. There was a short moment of bickering over who would pay for them, after establishing that they weren’t going to _split_ the cost, after all. There was a little more teasing in Bert’s direction, to which he wasn’t able to retort quickly enough, and it only ceased when Levi apparently deemed the guy close enough to exploding and jabbed his elbow into Eren’s side. The mouthed, “Thank you,” from Bert as they turned to leave didn’t go unnoticed.

“He and Reiner are totally a couple,” Eren informed Levi after a moment. “We all went to high school together. I wasn’t really close to them, but they’ve been banging since _at least_ junior year.”

“Are they actually roommates?” Levi arched a brow, sipping his drink.

“Hell yes they are. By the way, have you ever tried drinking Mountain Dew through Twizzlers? Fucking magical.”

“Fuck, sorry, I picked up an actual disgusting second grader instead of the _thing_ that’s supposed to be my _date._ ”

 

[--X--]

 

Eren’s throne was made of old and sort of lumpy throw pillows and an honestly sort of scratchy quilt.

“There aren’t many things I’m willing to get dirty,” Levi had admitted. “Deal with what you get and be fucking grateful. I could make you sit on the ground.”

Eren had completely and totally opted to shutting right the fuck up, making himself as comfortable he could be, and resting in his apparently permanent spot against Levi’s right side. Their lot was just about empty, so they felt less obnoxious opting to use a small radio Levi kept in the glove compartment (Eren was starting to worry he did things just to be extra careful; like the radio was for weather emergencies and similar occurrences) instead of the radio on the truck. Even if Levi had been visibly pumped up to finally get some use out of the sound system, and boast about how loud it could blast. Eren had promised some other time for that, like maybe in the middle of nowhere, where they could do something _much_ gayer than watching drive-in movies, like something that involved making out.  

He’d gotten his arm punched, but Levi didn’t seem entirely opposed.

The first movie was an action that Eren wasn’t particularly drawn into. It was somehow shorter than expected, or at least felt like it was, and he had, instead, spent most of his time tracing the stitching of Levi’s jeans with his eyes. Levi had caught him on more than one occasion and given him a flick to the nose each time and a muttering about paying some fucking attention. Obviously, he never did. What he did do, though, is lay down and eat Twizzlers before proceeding to choke on one.

“You’re a literal lost cause, Eren,” Levi informed him, a smirk at his lips and his arms crossed as he leaned back into the pillows next to him. “Seriously, how are you not dead yet? Calling you stupid is an insult to stupid people.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eren managed, but with a little struggle and a hint of coughing to get the traces of licorice out of his throat. He tried to make them subtle, with hopes of Levi not noticing. “Stupid would be, like, chugging down my entire Mountain Dew within fifteen seconds or something, not just choking on my candy.”

“I bet you couldn’t do it, anyway.”

The twenty minute break in between movies had been spent making a mad dash for the bathrooms. Eren accepted his title of _The Stupidest_ for finishing the Mountain Dew in seven seconds flat with pride.  

Once the second movie started, his triumphs and achievements were forgotten. The title screen was captivating, for Levi too, he hoped, and the story seemed promising. It was a new-to-theaters movie, something bordering a horror film of sorts that Armin would’ve chickened out of immediately, and Mikasa would’ve been a little unimpressed with. Levi stared at the large screen with moderate disinterest, but when he opened his mouth for his customary commentary, the few insults were towards the characters instead of the storyline or the effects. Eren checked this off as at least enjoyment of some degree.

Levi didn’t budge when Eren squirmed his way under his arm, or when he slung an arm over Levi’s waist and pretended to shift to make himself more comfortable, assumingly appreciating his position. When Eren began rubbing little circles into the denim over Levi’s hip, the gesture was returned by Levi merely playing with the shorter hairs on Eren’s neck.

Eren, although not entirely satisfied, waited it out until the slowest part of the movie.

He hadn’t tried Levi yet for things like these, like when he’d snap, or if he’d be bothered, or if he’d give in or make the first move, but his eyebrow twitched in the slightest when Eren’s fingers brushed his inner thigh and that encouraged the brunette even further to experiment and test his limits. It was different when they were both sober. His sex life had always been a little dull and boring, but this was _Levi_ and something about _Levi_ made him want to surge out of his previously well-guarded comfort zone. Said comfort zone was abandoned when he was around Levi, and sometimes he even tended to disregard Levi’s, too. He recognized that he could be told to back off at any moment, but he also recognized he could also get another _more_ past those pretty, thin lips.

The brunette turned his eyes to the screen, reveling in the sound of Levi’s breath, which he concentrated on over the sound of the movie. He mindlessly watched the figures move across the screen and let his hand travel down to Levi’s knee. His fingers traced the older man’s kneecap once, twice and then dawdled their way back up his thigh and repeat. When he grew bored with that much, he switched to Levi’s other leg, tipped his head back and planted his lips to Levi’s jaw.

He kissed the smooth skin there, feeling the way Levi clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times before giving his ear a harsh flick.

“We’re in the middle of a parking lot with loads of other people,” Levi hissed, but his voice wavered and his jaw clenched again. Eren chuckled, traveling down Levi’s neck with his mouth. “I didn’t realize you were into exhibitionism. If you don’t unlatch yourself from my neck right now I’m tossing you overboard, you honking ass jockey. If I show up to work with a _hickey_ of all things on Monday, the girls will never cease to spew shit from every orifice over it.”

“Honking ass jockey?” Eren grinned, but did as he was told (for either fear of ruining everything or actually being thrown over the edge of the bed of the truck). He pulled back to watch Levi’s face, to take in the way his eyes were glaring at him now, blank and contradictory to the unevenness of his voice. He received a merciless slap to the back of the hand when he slipped it under Levi’s shirt, even just a fraction. “Are you really _that_ into the movie?”

“Yes.”

Levi’s eyes returned to the screen, but they were unfocused, pupils a little too dilated to concentrate on the movie, on whatever dramatic turn of events had some much less interesting couple sitting on the edge of their seats.

The older man definitely wasn’t paying attention to the movie anymore.

By the time Eren had unanimously decided that he had won this battle, Levi was sitting up, pulling away from him entirely and jumping off of the side of the truck. Dumbstruck and concerned that he’d _finally_ fucked everything up, like maybe he’d been waiting for it to happen the entire time, he listened to Levi opening one of the truck doors, and the sound of shifting material. His entire body jerked upright in awareness at the crack the small rear slider window made as it opened with full force.

“Are you really going to make me wait after all of that shit?”

Eren was entirely certain he’d never moved so fast in his life.

He could’ve sprained his ankle in the process of replicating the way Levi had swung himself up and over the side of the truck and he wouldn’t have noticed. The only thing he registered was Levi’s fingers latching onto his shirt and pulling him into the truck. He was given a second to realize that he’d somehow been maneuvered onto his back in the back seat, with Levi sitting rather snugly and shamelessly on top of him. He watched as Levi gripped the headrest of the front seat for leverage.

Somewhere in the whole process, the door had been shut but that was completely unnecessary information that Eren had purged from his mind in favor for the extra space he used to store mental pictures of Levi straddling him and rearing to roll their hips together.

“Alright, you little shit,” Levi muttered. He lifted himself up just enough for more room to move. His eyes met Eren’s and the younger man shivered. “I’ll have you know that this is your fault and I’m not going to be held accountable for my own actions at this point.”

One of Eren’s hands found Levi’s hair while the other gripped his ass, pulling and forcing him down onto him again. Levi gave a little bump of his hips against Eren’s immediately, like it was natural, fluid and reactional in a way that left them both growling like they were simultaneously aroused and dimwitted over the feeling. Eren didn’t have to pull Levi down to him; he came willingly, pressing their mouths together, not quite as clumsy as the first time they’d kissed, but not as graceful as other times. If Eren wanted to be poetic in the middle of a moment where his dick was his primary thought provider, he’d say that all of their kisses were special and unique (which they were) and all of them ‘the best’ in their own way.

His focal point, though, was the high pitch that Levi’s usual alto achieved when he rolled his hips upward and they ground together with a rhythm previously assumed impossible. Levi pulled back to breathe, but Eren wasn’t pleased with the idea of his lips being away from _some_ part of Levi’s body, regardless of which part, and he rediscovered Levi’s neck with them.

Levi’s panting was hot against his ear, tickling the hair that hung below it, and he muttered things like, “I’m not going to come in my pants in the back of my truck like a fucking fifteen year old,” and then more unintelligible things like, “Jesus Christ, that’s good,” in the same breath. Eren had to untangle his fingers from Levi’s hair, more or less forced himself to, to join his other hand in unceremoniously clutching Levi’s ass for dear life, pulling him down a little harder while he sucked and bit a mark into Levi’s otherwise unblemished skin. The disappointment he felt when Levi finally pulled back, paused their motion and propped himself up was tangible. Maybe the excitement when he realized Levi was just unbuttoning their jeans was too, though.

“Don’t look so fucking excited,” Levi practically _purred_ , the sly little bastard, as he freed Eren from the confinement of his jeans. He moved slowly, though, agonizingly and teasingly and, _He’s getting me back for last week, isn’t he?_ “And don’t look smug, either. It’s pissing me off.”

“Everything pisses you off.”

Levi chuckled, low and in the back of his throat, while his fingers pushed Eren’s shirt up his chest, his palm talking good care to appreciate his skin as he went along.

“Maybe just everything having to do with you pisses me off,” Levi whispered, tone uncharacteristically gentle, at least taking into account the way he was rolling his hips again, his own erection brushing up against Eren’s. He dragged his nails gently down Eren’s chest and abdomen, a soft hiss passing his lips. “You’re an infuriating person.”

“I’m totally not going to argue with you when you’re on top of me like this,” Eren breathed. He inhaled sharply when Levi ground against his hips again, using his free hand to wrap around their lengths and stroke them in tandem. Moans rolled off of Eren’s tongue easier than the words he wanted to voice. He struggled to regain composure, fighting the urge to pull Levi down to him again when those nails dug into him one more time. “But you don’t seem to hate my abs at least.”

“You have nice abs.”

If Eren hadn’t known better, he might have thought that Levi was impressed, or at least pleasantly surprised with the fact of the matter. The older man leaned down to press a small kiss to the spot he’d been gently kneading at, before bracing himself on Eren’s shoulder. He rolled again, angling himself just so, where Eren could see the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, the warmth to his cheeks that was practically infectious, the redness and swollenness to his lips as they parted in a moan.

“You have nicer abs.”

“Hell yeah I do.”

Eren’s chuckle died in his throat when it mingled with a poorly executed cry of pleasure when Levi twisted his hand _just_ right, or maybe it was because they were kissing again.

His hands slid away from Levi’s ass, though they’d been quite comfortable there, and relocated to his hips, before sort of imitating Levi in sliding up his abdomen and chest under his shirt. Their final resting places were on his sides, right above his hip bones, and he used it to his advantage, still working to guide Levi along in what ways he could. The ways were few, of course, because Levi was taking control, this time, and Eren couldn’t complain.

Levi was always a little domineering, after all.

Eren realized how close he was abruptly, like always, when they parted for air. He was never quick on the upkeep, but maybe he could blame Levi’s suddenly erratic pace or the stuttering in his breathing and shaking of his hands. Watching Levi’s walls fall was one of the sexiest things he’d experienced to date.

“You better be ready to come, you little fuck,” Levi grumbled, biting his lower lip hard, with little or no regard for Eren’s pain or lack thereof. His pace sped up, and Eren found that it was easy to appreciate, his hips bucking up to meet Levi’s, to give what little assistance he was capable of. “Because after I finish, you’re on your own.”

“Cruel,” Eren managed, breathing ragged and voice rough and he swore he felt Levi’s cock twitch against his. He was close, though, so close, _and closer_. “Mmm, guess that means n-nobody’s getting their brains fucked out tonight.”

There was mostly silence between the two of them in the short stretch between his last word and his peak, save for low guttural sounds, breathing and shifting material. Eren was confident that Levi followed after him soon, and that he’d muttered something about the term ‘getting their brains fucked out’ being absolutely disgusting. His priority was to ride out the high of his release, though, sticky and warm and gross (maybe Levi was rubbing off on him) between the two of them on his stomach. He wanted to make a retort about fogging up the glass but after that, he was actually worried that they might have.

Like the first time, Eren was the first to recover.

He tilted his head a little to get a better view of Levi resting against his chest, still breathing hard like he’d never done anything even remotely lewd in his life. His eyes were closed, his brow completely relaxed for once, forehead smooth and still slick with sweat.

After a few minutes, Eren asked, “That good, huh?”

“Shut up,” Levi replied, his voice nearly as damaged as he looked. “You’re too fucking young or something.”

“Sounds like someone needs to work up their stamina.”

“Shut up.”

“I can help you with that.”

“ _Shut up._ ” 


	10. That's Kind of the Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There came a time when a man had to ask himself a question. Some questions were more important than others, but that was irrelevant. Right now, Eren was asking himself if he was willing to sacrifice his bustling masculinity (he could hear Levi laughing at him from somewhere in the back of his mind), or if he wanted to preserve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So!! the first scene took me about . . . oh.....28 days to write, and the last two took the majority of yesterday. Smut is certainly not my strong suit, and i nearly skipped this, but i felt like it'd be sort of incomplete because i'm a sappy bastard. I get really embarrassed when it comes to writing stuff like that because i'm afraid i won't meet stANDARDS AND SHIT so that's why I kind of procrastinated it. And then I wrote five pages of smut. Jesus Chris. Regardless, long smut and a scene i've been really kind of pumped for. 
> 
> also that summary might be a little misleading
> 
> only one more chapter left, and everything i had planned out will be done!! I'm nervous to write the next chapter, but I'm determined to get it done faster. I'm starting a new, more lengthy job on the 13th and I'd really like to wrap this up before then. I feel terrible keeping anyone waiting, especially seeing how this fic has gotten a lot more attention than I had initially expected. You guys are all so awesome, and thank you for your kudos, comments and bookmarks because every single one makes me super super super happy. ♥v♥
> 
> Tumblr: boywitch.tumblr.com !  
> Tracked Tag: #Fic: Art Of War
> 
> [kisses ur cheeks because i love u]

 

So, perhaps being thrown down onto Levi’s bed within seconds of making it back to the apartments after the date wasn’t the last thing on Eren’s mind. Maybe he had thought, _maybe_ , once or twice or seven times that he wouldn’t mind being straddled by Levi again, to watch and feel him kiss near every inch of his body. There was some hope in his mind for Levi to disregard his regular set of standards and fling their clothes off somewhere in his pristine little bedroom , carelessly so that they’d have to search for them in the morning because that would be half of the fun. The hope that after whatever fun his mind could conjure up would end with them entangled, Levi slow to recover like always (it was a little silly to think ‘always’ when it had only been twice), sleepy and satisfied.

He hadn’t held onto the hope too much, of course.

Eren figured he probably deserved to be dumped off at his apartment for being a “little shit” and making Levi miss the ending of a perfectly good movie. He’d also ended up spilling some of his leftover Mountain Dew on the blanket Levi had in the bed of his truck for them to sit on, so he was actually expecting it. Maybe he deserved it, maybe he didn’t. That wasn’t relevant.

His original fantasies were closer to the truth. There he was, and he thanked God for it, mostly naked, on his back on Levi’s bed with the older man hovering above him. One of Levi’s hands held him up while two fingers of the other worked inside of Eren, slick and slow and dragging sounds out of the brunette that he’d never been aware he could make. Perhaps he hadn’t imagined it to go _quite_ like this, but he’d quickly reached the point of not giving a damn and letting Levi do what he wanted. That seemed to get him places, after all, and most of those places were well worth it.

“Hurry up,” Eren huffed, thrusting his hips to meet with Levi’s fingers, forcing them in further than he’d expected. “Faster.”

Letting Levi do _everything_ he wanted, exactly the way he wanted, wasn’t exactly in Eren’s nature, after all.

Levi was quick about nearly everything, however. There were things that the man did that Eren never quite caught, like somewhere along the line he’d lost his shirt and gained a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube. His shoes were gone, too, but Eren didn’t care about them.

His movement stuttered, some embarrassing and unidentifiable noise choking itself out from his throat when Levi gave an extra hard push of his fingers, curling them at just the perfect angle that shook the air from Eren’s lungs. The brunette grappled, fingers searching for anything they could grip for support he only really thought he needed. Eventually, he managed to hook his arms around Levi’s neck and pull him down, closer and closer, until he was forced onto his elbow. Eren took him in, inhaling every distinct smell on Levi (which ranged from sweat and sex, to coffee and soap) even when his breath hitched. He tried to concentrate on things like that, though it was hard with Levi’s fingers working him absolutely mad.

“Needy and bossy,” was Levi’s verbal reply, but Eren paid little attention. There was no bite to Levi’s tone, and in fact if he were in better mind, he might have thought there was something _loving_ in those words. “Why do I put up with you?”

He obliged, though, quickening his pace, leaving Eren moaning, wanton and breathless. There was something fucking incomprehensible about Levi’s hands. They were small, at least a little smaller than Eren’s, and his fingers were nothing particularly entrancing (except for being cute, if you looked at them with the right mindset). When Levi put them to work, though, it was like _magic_. With one hand pressed gently against Eren’s cheek and the other one stretching him open in ways he wouldn’t mind lasting forever, he’d never really thought one person could have him rutting like a porn star and melting into the mattress at the same time.

After a pleading whisper of, “More,” Eren was rewarded with a third finger. He gave a content sigh as he adjusted quickly. Nothing could take too long with a little (a lot) of lube.

“I think it’s my, mmm, excellent and outstanding personality, and, you know, my sunny disposition,” Eren answered, but his voice was shaky and his sarcasm was lost somewhere along the way. His arms dropped from Levi’s neck to the sheets. He clung to them, probably a little too hard, wrinkling the soft and simple white fabric, but dammit Levi was doing this _thing_ with his fingers where he rubbed the single most sensitive spot on or inside of Eren’s body and it was the only thing he could do to help himself from screaming or something equally ridiculous. When Levi let up, though, Eren managed, “Maybe it’s because I’m so hot.”

“If anything, it’s the latter.”

Eren wanted to shoot something back (he’d even had the material planned), but Levi was sitting up straight, back on his haunches and raking his eyes rather shamelessly up and down the brunette. He guessed he was sort of a sight to see, disheveled hair sticking every which way, t-shirt pushed up his chest to its limits, legs spread and knees bent and his hips still rocking down, trying to get that little-bit-more he was searching for.

Levi’s gaze made him shiver. There was blatant hunger in his eyes, lust-filled and pupils blown just the way Eren liked them.

It was mystifying to think that in just over a month, Levi had gone from looking at Eren like he was ready to saw his head off with the closest blunt object in reach, to looking like he was ready to devour him.

In his own way, he already was.

“You look like you’re about to eat me,” Eren mumbled. He let out a whine when Levi pulled out, only to wipe his fingers off onto the sheets (with a face Eren definitely didn’t miss and would torment him for later).

“Not that I haven’t thought of that or anything.” Levi smirked, gripping Eren’s thigh and tugging it over his shoulder. He licked his lips and Eren couldn’t decide if it was over the prospect of eating him, or his line of vision, but both were pretty pleasing. “But let’s save that for another night, shall we? Sucks for you, but I’m not going three rounds in one night.”

“Old man.”

 Eren slipped his eyes shut, listening closely to the tell-tale sound of Levi’s zipper as he shifted to make himself a little bit more comfortable. He stayed that way for a moment, simply listening to the sounds Levi made—of which was mostly just cloth rustling, foil ripping and something wet-sounding that he assumed was more lube, as ever-considerate Levi was. There was a grunt, and some non-committal muttering about ages and how Levi deserved more respect from the brunette, but Eren laughed it off until he felt the head of Levi’s cock press to his entrance and a sharp grazing of teeth against his thigh.

He hissed, hips jerking towards Levi shamelessly. His legs trembled and he willed them to stop, to behave, but not much about his body was quite obeying him anymore.

That was fine, really.  He kind of preferred it this way, anyway.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Levi was bordering that state he enjoyed so much. He looked impatient, just a little, but his eyes were soft, lips were parted, cheeks faintly dusted with red in what little light they had to work with. Eren’s eyes travelled, just like any decent human being’s would, down his thin long neck, and he’d say that it was surprising that his skin was predominantly unblemished and just as clean and smooth as the rest of him, but it really wasn’t.

“Dare you to make me wake up the neighbors,” Eren challenged, short-winded and with not nearly the amount of cheek he’d planned. “It’s like, what, two, three in the morning? I’m sure they’d love that.”

He was glad Levi didn’t bother to point out who his immediate neighbors were. He didn’t want to be thinking about Erwin in whatever goddamn pajamas he wore to bed in his own personal apartment across the way from Levi’s, or deaf older woman that lived directly next to him with the toothy grin and the tendency to shove handfuls of those little strawberry hard candies at anyone she ran into (not that they’d have to worry about waking the Ms. Hubbard up, but imagining Erwin fucking Smith busting through the door, garbed in a onesie, with obviously the best intentions in mind at any given moment was probably the cheapest ticket to Boner-Be-Gone-Ville). Good people. Not ideal pillow talk.

His real reply was a breathy laugh and, “Shut up and relax, you fucking moron.”

Thank God, though, thank GodLevi wasn’t going to give him time to think about that one.

The older man pushed in, slow and steady, practiced, calculating and careful. Perhaps Levi’s length wasn’t quite as long as Eren’s, but he was thicker and Eren was suddenly very thankful for the preparation, for the lube, for Levi’s thoroughness in nearly everything. And Eren did as he was told, as if it were an afterthought, and forced himself to focus on things unrelated to Levi’s cock slowly pushing inside of him, little by little, like the way Levi’s eyes fluttered shut and his eyelashes rested on his cheeks and the little bit of sweat that made him sort of glow (as poetic as Eren _wasn’t_ ).

He was beautiful.

Eren was given a second to adjust and to shift himself, body easily conforming to Levi’s, before he gave a short, curt little nod to Levi, eyes shut tight.

It was Levi’s cue, and the older man was always pretty quick to pick up on things, after all, and— _Fuck_ , he was moving. His thrusts were short and shallow at first, too slow for Eren’s immediate preference, but the sensation alone sated him. With every thrust, every push of his hips, Levi pushed in deeper, deeper until Eren was practically _whining_ , moaning out what sounded like gibberish to his ears, hands and fingers once again grappling for traction more satisfying than sheets.

The brunette wasn’t sure if his, “Feels good,” or, “Oh God,” came out sounding just like that, but he heard Levi moan and watched his head drop. The older man had his own share of unintelligible intonations, some of which including Eren’s name, and in any other situation, he might have let it swell his pride.

He’d given sex with Levi thought before, enough to garner fantasies, but he’d always imagined it to be rough, more like a battle or competition than sex. He would’ve been defiant, stubborn, and refuse to submit and Levi would probably be the same way.  It had merely been a thought he sort of amused, toyed with while keeping the hope at bay and the expectations low. He’d thought that, yeah, maybe it could’ve happened one day, sure, but he’d never considered feelings put into it, or to feel like he was making love.

 When Levi bent down, forcing Eren to curl up underneath him, and kissed him to swallow the sounds he made when he pushed in at just the right angle, with the perfect force, it _did_ feel a little bit like making love.

Levi’s nails dug into the skin of his thigh when he pulled back and Eren gave a pathetic whimper of, “More.”

Eren got what he wanted, and rather quickly, at that. Levi’s deep, hard movements left him gasping, hands once again locking themselves around the older man’s neck for that traction he’d been seeking aimlessly before. Levi’s free hand found his erection and wrapped around it, always thorough, always quick, pumping him with ease and in tandem with his thrusts. _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ if he’d thought he hadn’t made sense before, he certainly wasn’t now.

“Levi,” Eren choked out. His back arched and he surged upward, fighting the temptation to shake his own leg off of Levi’s shoulder for the sake of being closer to him. “Levi, _fuck_ , I’m gonna come. _Fuck._ ”

“That’s kind of the point.”

Levi’s pace faltered slightly and his voice was unsteady for once, so Eren pushed his hips to meet with the older man’s, earning his own string of moans and swears. Their pace was erratic, now, no longer much of a pace at all. Levi bit down on his shoulder, and then his clavicle and he knew there would be marks, bruises, and they’d both be going to work with unattractive bandages on their necks.

Eren came when Levi delivered one last bite, this time to his shoulder. He gave a cry, maybe a yell, and Levi’s movements stuttered.

Eren watched, under some sort of dazed stupor, as Levi fought to gain composure, but just couldn’t grasp it. He was still moving, still breathing hard, still making sounds that Eren really contemplated recording for himself one day. He watched as Levi quickly came undone, watched as the mask he’d already broken past crumbled even more. He listened to his name come from Levi’s mouth, lustful and pleasurable-sounding, like something precious and secret. He felt Levi throb and pulse inside of him.

The next thing Eren saw was Levi settling into the bed next to him, cleaned up rather nice and minus one condom and that damn pair of jeans he’d still been wearing. It took his mind a few seconds to catch up to him, reeling a little at the aspect of doing _exactly_ what Levi had done earlier, and a week ago.

“Oh Goddammit,” he grumbled, half-hiding his face in the pillow while Levi draped the comforter over him. He still kept an eye on Levi. “I did it this time.”

Levi laughed and _smiled_ at him, tender and soft and if he weren’t already boneless where he lay, he would’ve been.

“Shut up,” Levi murmured, and he moved to kiss Eren’s forehead. “Go to sleep.”

 

[--X--]

 

“Eren! Psst!”

Like any decent person, at the sound of his name coming from Marco’s general direction, Eren stopped what he was doing, dropped whatever was on his mind, and turned his attention to the freckled receptionist. By then, it was a completely natural and instinctual and practically law. Eren couldn’t disregard the law—especially when Marco looked so distraught.

By the time he’d made it to Marco’s desk, the freckled man was fidgeting a little, playing with his watch and looking down at something sitting behind his desk. He smiled a little when he met Eren’s eyes, but he still looked distressed.

“What’s up, Marco?”

“Well, uh . . . Okay, so, do you have any allergies?”

Eren had to stop, think and go over his mental checklist of allergies, food and medical and otherwise, before he realized how odd of a question it was. He took a small, cautious step away. He eyed Marco warily, and while he trusted him quite more than he did someone like, oh, _Jean_ , he couldn’t help but fear for the unknown.

“Uh, well, I can’t eat too much peanut butter because I get rashes but, uh . . .  Why?”

Marco looked visibly relieved, and for some reason that made Eren even more nervous.

In the two weeks following Eren and Levi’s date, he’d learned a little bit about some of the residents of the apartment complex from Levi. He was pretty insightful, and rarely terribly biased, so he believed him when he told him that Erwin always had some strange hobby, and that sometimes Marco could be a little . . . _weird._ Levi hadn’t gone into detail, and now Eren was severely wishing that he had.

“So, okay, don’t freak out or tell anyone or make a lot of noise—“

_A bomb? Does he have a bomb? Or a gun or something? Eren, you are going to die. Your co-worker’s boyfriend and your complex receptionist is going to shoot you in the face. At least you got laid last night. Thank God._

“—Erwin’s already kind of gotten onto me, can’t really keep them out here for very long—“

Eren relaxed a little. Perhaps since Erwin knew, he’d be safe, or at least have someone to present evidence or claim witness if he died. See, it wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Marco. He’d gotten high with the guy before, and there was no bond more irreplaceable. It was more like he didn’t know enough about Marco to expect anything in particular. He was overthinking, of course, but it was Marco.

“—But really, no harm done, right? It’s not a really big deal—“

“Marco.”

Marco’s eyes widened and his sentence dropped off into some sort of word space oblivion.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Marco looked absolutely appalled (or maybe a little disturbed). “What? Of course not!”

“Then get to the point, man.”

Marco sighed, defeated. He dropped his head and waved for Eren to circle the desk. Curiously, albeit still a little cautiously, Eren did as he was instructed and stepped carefully around the edge, and looked directly down to what Marco was pointing at.

That something just happened to be a cardboard box full of sleeping kittens.

There came a time when a man had to ask himself a question. Some questions were more important than others, but that was irrelevant. Right now, Eren was asking himself if he was willing to sacrifice his bustling masculinity (he could hear Levi laughing at him from somewhere in the back of his mind), or if he wanted to preserve it. He was asking himself if he wanted to stay prideful, or become shameless. He was asking himself if he wanted to persevere or give in.

He was asking himself if he wanted to _squeal_ over a cardboard box of sleeping kittens or not.

They were all snuggled together in a little puddle of fur and cute faces and little ears and tiny paws. There were five that Eren could see, and certainly no mother in sight. There were three black and white ones, one yellow and white, and then a runty calico. Eren’s fingers twitched to touch or to pick up, but Marco had already warned him to not make a big deal out of it.

“Like I said, Erwin already knows about them,” the receptionist explained, face reflecting his sullen voice. “I can’t keep more than one, can’t really afford to. The calico is mine. Do you know of anyone who wants the other four, though? I hate to drop them off at the pound or something, because you never know where they’ll end up . . . “

As if he were on some sort of indication, Eren scooped the yellow kitten into his hands. When it only lazily stared up at him, giant blue eyes practically piercing straight through him in an almost creepy way, he supposed maybe he’d already decided beforehand anyway.

“Yeah, I can help you.”

 

[--X--]

 

Maybe it had just been the results of a bad day at work following Levi home, even though there was nothing particularly excellent nor terrible about your average Saturday in a convenience store aside from your leftover influx of payday hundreds and the constant need to distribute change to the two registers, but the complex seemed a little different when Levi stepped through the front doors leading to the lobby. Marco looked nervous, like maybe his mind was wandering or he was running behind schedule with something, and his reply was a little curt, but there were always reasons. Since he wasn’t tripping over himself to explain his mood, Levi decided it’d be best to leave it be.

He knew Eren was in his apartment as soon as he opened the door (as the idiot was just that—an idiot, and he tended to leave _his_ door unlocked, too). After a quick glance and a moment to listen to the shuffling coming from further into his apartment, he knew exactly where his noisy boyfriend was and took it upon himself to continue his daily routine after calling out a short greeting, and receiving one in return.

“Any idea what’s up with Marco?” he asked, raising his voice just a little louder than usual. The television was on, although the volume was low. He could smell something cooking in the kitchen. That was a surprise in itself. “He’s acting a little weird.”

When he got no verbal reply, he assumed Eren had shrugged his shoulders and had just stupidly forgotten he couldn’t see him.

He rounded the corner, hanging his key ring up on the only free rung of the bolted-in coat hanger. He was already shrugging himself out of his work shirt, almost aimlessly tossing his nametag, phone, and wallet down onto the coffee table. He disappeared into his room for a moment, and returned with a clean, much nicer-feeling shirt, but froze in his tracks when he finally, _finally_ , took in the scene before him of Eren curled up on the L of the couch, with the fluffiest goddamn yellow kitten perched lazily on his chest. He had a sheepish smile on his face, and though he wanted to call it shit-eating, that was only personal perspective. He also looked a little terrified, and that usually inclined Levi to be a little nicer.

Slowly, he seated himself onto the couch, close to Eren and the intruder, or at least close enough.

“Why is there a cat in my apartment?” he asked, deliberately pronouncing every syllable and speaking with a clear voice. “Like, honest to God. Don’t fuck around. I can tell when you’re lying.”

Eren groaned, rolling his head to finally meet Levi’s eyes. The kitten, so far, hadn’t moved an inch and, instead, had taken up rather fondly staring at Levi. He felt as though he was being scrutinized or inspected, like he was trying to win the stupid thing’s approval or love or something, like Eren apparently already had.

“So, uh, it has to do with Marco,” Eren said, lifting one hand to gently scratch behind the kitten’s ear. It leaned its head just in the slightest. “He found an abandoned box of kittens down the street in front of the grocery store. I just spent the last two hours finding homes for the other three.”

“That doesn’t explain why there’s a _kitten_ in _my home,_ Eren.”

“I, uh . . . I might have gotten attached.”

“Eren.”

“I can afford the deposit!” Eren sat up straight, cuddling the little shit in his arms like he was afraid Levi would rip it from his grasp and dump it into the nearest body of water. “I can pay for him. I promise—“

“Eren—“

“Cats aren’t hard to litter box train or anything anyway, right? I can—“                                                  

“Jesus, _Eren_ —“

“Seriously! I’ll just take—“

“Eren!”

Eren stared at him, wide-eyed and bristling, much like the yellow Tribble occupying the space he actually really kind of wanted to be in at the moment. He refused  to come close to admitting that he was a little jealous of a kitten that had only been in his apartment for under an hour, it seemed, but he really could go for some after-work affection and it was standing in his way.

Nonetheless, that wasn’t where he was going with this.

“I was going to say he’s cute, I’ll help you with the deposit, and to shut up because, seriously, you’re so hung up on the yellow dust bunny and you haven’t kissed me yet.”

There was a flicker of surprise on Eren’s features, but only for a moment because he was eagerly leaning over and pressing a kiss to Levi’s lips, and then another at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you,” he said softly, eyes soft and a smile at his lips. “Seriously. You know, to be honest, I kind of saved him because I thought you might want him, but I’m thinking joint custody would be fine.”

“Let’s just hope you don’t love the cat more and kill me to keep him for yourself.” Levi grinned. “By the way, what’s on the stove? Smells good.”

“Oh yeah!”

Eren was up and off of the couch in an instant, carefully placing the mound of fluff on the floor and rushing into the kitchen. The kitten followed after him, unsteady and curious, with Levi in tow to watch on with amusement. While Eren rambled on about the processes of deciding to make whatever he made, Levi sat at the kitchen table. He noted the way the kitten sat on the floor next to Eren’s feet, looking far too dignified for something so young and terribly cute. He reminded him of something.

“Made some stew, used my mom’s recipe,” Eren was saying as he placed a bowl in front of Levi, well-equipped with a spoon and followed by a glass of water. “Her stew is the shit. Try it.”

Levi hummed as he scooped up a spoonful and blew lightly, eyes still trained on their apparent new roommate. He looked somewhat unimpressed, sniffing at the air here and there, sometimes batting at something invisible on the floor, but otherwise unwavering in staring up at Eren or watching where his feet moved.

“Erwin!” Levi said with his eyes large and grin probably comically wide, and that damn cat looked straight at him. “He fucking reminds me of Erwin! Eren, look at the fuzz bucket and tell me it isn’t like, fucking, Erwin incarnate.” 

Excited by his own discovery, Levi shoveled the stew into his mouth, watching as Eren stared at the kitten, in likeness to the way he had, and put two and two together. The brunette’s expression of sheer excitement was something to behold, and he bounced a little on the balls of his feet, smiling excitedly.

“You’re right!”

“Damn right.” Levi took another bite. “I don’t give a damn what you name him. I’m calling him Erwin.”

He was sure Eren said something to that, maybe disagreed or even agreed to it, because his mouth was moving and Levi heard _something_ , but he was pounded straight in the stomach with nausea. In any normal situation, where he wasn’t the one put in the place of victim, he might have laughed or applauded the abruptness of it all. He didn’t recall ever eating something that hit him so comically, so mercilessly in the middle of a very important conversation (because naming kittens was incredibly high up on the priority list).

Levi didn’t pay attention to how or when he made it to the bathroom, only the fact that he was losing what little of the stew he _had_ managed to consume, as well as his small lunch and probably his morning coffee, too.

He stood up from his uncomfortable position in front of his mighty porcelain throne and shot a glare over to Eren. The brunette was near hysterical at the doorway of the bathroom, and the fucking cat was sitting there, at his feet, as smug and shitty as before.

“The cat’s name is Erwin,” he said, voice hoarse and deep. “And I’m pretty sure the stew is poisonous. Throw it out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [added] if you're wondering what kind of cat Erwin is, google Norwegian Forest Cat ♥


	11. Of Slow Sunday Mornings and Perceptive Mothers (the lovers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I said,” Levi started, and this time he cleared his throat. “That I love you, you goddamn imbecile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a little breakdown earlier over this chapter, shortly before I finished it. I had a little breakdown because this is, by far, the longest piece of literature I have ever written in my life. It is also the first multi-chapter fanfiction/story in general I've ever written. It was the second fanfiction I ever started. Honestly, Art of War has turned into something really special to me and I'm scared to let it go, if that makes sense. I've never quite put out so much effort, time and thought into something purely for enjoyment. 
> 
> I'd never really expected anything I contributed to a fandom to get popular, but I really want to thank everyone who has either stuck around for the long haul, might now be reading because it's complete (i feel you guys though i know how that is), or might read it in the future. Thank you all for your support, vocal or otherwise (views alone are support enough for me). Thank you for those who have pointed out my silly little mistakes and also put up with them. Just . . . Fuck. Thank you guys so much. 
> 
> Thanks to all of my lovely friends who have beta'd for me, too. Octopies, Miyubunny, Victortrevored (all AO3) and trucyenigmarr (tumblr). The hell would I do without you. 
> 
> Tumblr: boywitch.tumblr.com  
> Tracked Tag: #Fic: Art of War

_11:43 AM._

The numbers were still bright and blocky from the alarm clock sitting atop Levi’s wooden night stand, but green instead of red. They didn’t give the room much of a glow, as Eren had taken to pulling the curtains away from Levi’s window every time he woke up with him. The door was slightly ajar, leaving just enough room for the real owner of the apartment (Erwin the Cat, of course) to come and go as he pleased. There was no noisy tromping from above, only the sputtering of a coffee machine, pouring out just enough for two large cups, and the soft hum of after-church traffic outside of the apartment complex.

Levi had never cared much for Sundays before meeting Eren, because even though it was one of his two days off, Monday always followed. There was never anything spectacular about his Sundays; he didn’t go to church, and he didn’t have any specific shows to keep up with on TV. He would cook, of course, for his devoted subjects, though there wasn’t much else.

But on that day, on Sunday, November third, Levi decided that maybe he could give them a chance.

He lay propped up on his knees, his chest pressed down into the mattress by the weight of Eren on top of him. His fingers gripped for purchase among the sheets and pillows, which had scattered rather formlessly, and Eren kissed a crooked line of kisses up and down the nape of his neck, nuzzling the short hairs with his nose. He whispered things into Levi’s skin that either meant everything or nothing (and sometimes both at the same time) while he traced a swirling pattern from Levi’s ribs down to the coarse hair resting just above his cock.

Eren had a penchant for morning sex.

Levi didn’t like to admit it, to give Eren the satisfaction of knowing, but when Eren fucked into him slowly the way he liked to, lazily nibbled at his neck, felt him with no real urgency and only _pleasure_ , he knew exactly why.

Everything with Eren was a learning experience, from the way he liked his coffee to the way he hated falling asleep with socks on. There were weird habits, like leaving lights on without a care (which Levi would not stand for) and tearing the crusts off of his sandwiches like a child. And then there were preferences, like how well-done he liked the hardly affordable steak, and what part of Levi’s body he liked to bite the most.

Levi was full of his own little educational moments. He’d surprised Eren with bursts of actual obsessive compulsive behavior, such as locking and unlocking his truck about eight times before being satisfied (although he didn’t care to lock doors unless he was leaving home), or flicking the lights on and off an undeterminable amount on particularly bad days (so he kept candles for light a majority of the time). But Eren didn’t tease him, and usually watched on like a supportive lover until he was finished. Levi suspected he remembered these kinds of things, like he took notes.

Eren was slow, so slow, agonizingly coaxing Levi’s orgasm out of him, and he followed soon after, Levi’s name echoing through the tiny apartment and the coffee machine sputtering to a noisy stop. He hissed as he pulled out, dropping down next to Levi, an arm and a leg still draped over him, with a goofy, hazy-looking little smile on his face. He was sweaty, and honestly probably needed to brush his teeth, but Levi kissed him anyway, brushing his sweat-dampened hair out of his face.

“Coffee or shower first?” Eren asked, a little out of breath, and he probably already knew the answer.

“Shower,” was Levi’s immediate response, and the only reply he received was laughter. “What kind of stupid fucking question was that? Need to clean the sheets, too. They smell like stale sex.”

“Of course, of course.”

Neither of them made any move to vacate the bed. Instead, Eren slipped his eyes shut and Levi twirled his fingers through Eren’s hair, ignoring the sweat, ignoring how fucking gross he felt, in favor for watching the way the sunlight from the window made the Brunette’s hair shine. When Eren opened his eyes again, the same light hit his eyes just enough to make them look a little greener than usual, a little brighter than usual but devoid of any bite or extra energy.

The words left Levi’s mouth before he knew what he was saying.

Eren’s expression was one comparable to someone who was caught between expecting one thing and realizing he got another. His smile faltered and his jaw dropped, rather comically for someone lying down, while his eyes very nearly bugged straight out of his face. He didn’t move and he didn’t speak, at least not at first, and Levi pushed the abrupt and overcoming dread to a backburner on the stovetop of his priorities.

“Wait . . . What?”

Yes, perhaps he hadn’t heard him.

“I said,” Levi started, and this time he cleared his throat. “That I love you, you goddamn imbecile.”

_That last part wasn’t terribly necessary, Levi._

Eren stared.

No, his bugging eyes hadn’t really let up, and no, he hadn’t quite shut his gaping mouth. He stared, stupidly and obnoxiously and it was Levi’s opinion that it was quite rude, really. It wasn’t like Eren to be at a loss for words, as the brunette _always_ had something to spew, something to bestow upon Levi a hefty helping of secondhand embarrassment. Levi was almost pissed, because of all of the times he’d actually appreciate some inappropriate comment from Eren, he wasn’t getting one. 

His anxieties stayed where Levi had pushed them, though, back on that backburner that he was going to pretend never even existed, because Eren’s lips found his, even if only for a short moment.

“I love you too,” Eren said firmly, confidently, as though he’d been waiting since the damned day they’d first met, since the moment their eyes had met in the hallway, just in front of the stairs leading to the second floor right outside of Levi’s door. He nodded furiously, and his hand found Levi’s cheek (he didn’t have the time to hope that wasn’t the hand that’d just made him come). “I love you so much. Jesus Christ, I’ve been waiting forever to—“

“Shut up, you’re slaughtering the definition of eloquent.”

Levi wound a hand around to the back of Eren’s neck and kissed him. He kissed him slowly, like they’d just fucked, like they were still going with the flow from before, and even when Eren tried to take control, Levi resisted and Eren didn’t put up a fight. It was gentle, and it was nice if Eren ignored the essence of morning breath on Eren’s tongue.

Eren had always sort of impressed him when they kissed anyway.

Their eyes met lazily when the kiss broke, and Eren gave him a brilliant, stupid smile.

“Can we go another round?”

“Oh fuck you,” Levi muttered, rolling his way off of the bed at last and shaking out his sore joints. “I’m going to get my shower, and you’re going to go into the kitchen and make me breakfast. And remember to _not_ use so much onion powder that I lose my guts again. The stew incident was once too much for that.”

 

[--X--]

 

Cook, Eren did.

He didn’t go very far beyond sausage, eggs and toast, though, and he didn’t even touch the onion powder. In fact, nobody touched the onion powder and Eren was starting to wonder why it was in the cabinet anyway. He wasn’t a particularly bad cook, he’d just miscalculated. And by miscalculated, he’d confused teaspoons with tablespoons. It hadn’t been pretty (and needless to say, Levi had been giving him lessons of sorts in the art of not making him vomit). 

Now, though, as he pushed the eggs around in the pan and listened to the sound of water running and hitting a linoleum shower floor, he decided he loved this. He loved lazy Sunday mornings spent with Levi. He loved knowing Levi was there, and he was there willingly, consensually sharing space and air and _eggs_ with him.

And, hey, the insults had evolved beautifully from hateful hisses to some sort of secret loving language. That’s what Eren thought, at least, but it was too cheesy to say out loud, and with a straight face.

By the time he’d finished dishing their food out onto two plates with two mugs full of coffee, Levi was fresh out of the shower, dressed in a clean pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt. He dropped down into his chair at the small kitchen table across from Eren’s and gave a mirthful little look to Erwin (the Cat), who was perched on the cat castle Hanji had given him. They ate quietly, for the most part, until Levi pointed out that the eggs were both unburned and edible, for which Eren kicked him under the table.

They certainly did _not_ start a kicking war under the table.

Except they did, and that was just another thing Eren loved. He loved acting childish and getting a glimpse of Levi’s immature side in return. While one minute he could say something philosophical, despite all of the vulgarity, the next minute he could spout off the most immature bullshit Eren had ever heard and he _loved_ it.  

He loved so much about Levi, and when he told him, his response was a smirk and, “Say much more and you’ll turn into a block of sharp cheddar.”

 

[--X--]

 

“Ah. Is Eren here? I checked his apartment, but nobody was there, and the sweet boy at the front desk said he might be here.”

Levi was sure, for about two entire seconds, that his heart had dropped straight into his stomach. It had only been a minute or two since he had physically escorted Eren to the bathroom and shoved him into the shower because he “smelled like cock”, only a minute or two since he had actually _said_ that sentence aloud. There was his divine retribution, standing directly in front of him, in the form of Carla Jaeger and Mikasa.

He considered for a short moment lying to her, pretending that he’d never met her or seen her before in his life. That he didn’t know who this ‘Eren’ she was talking about even existed, who was Eren? That sweet boy at the front desk was probably out of his mind. Of course, he couldn’t do that when he watched Mikasa narrow her eyes at him. He’d heard enough about her, even met her a couple of times, but she’d never seemed terribly keen on him. Her presence was the only factor that guaranteed certain death if he tried to avoid the entire situation.

Something about not being a suitable boyfriend for her brother or something.

His only option was to give in to the god of death and welcome these two women, who probably had every means of physically or mentally ripping him apart for the sake of one stupid brunette, into his home. Eren would probably be pissed if he didn’t, anyway.

“He’s in the shower,” he answered honestly, at last, and stepped back. He pulled the door open with him, vaguely gesturing for the two women to come in. “He only just stepped in. As you two probably know, he takes forever, so there’s that.”

They laughed, although Mikasa’s was a little drab and lifeless. _Honestly, she looks a little drab and lifeless,_ he thought, but he managed a little smirk as the two women sat down on his couch. Erwin hopped down from his pedestal on the cat castle and stretched out on the L, closest to Mikasa, but didn’t quite approach her. He much preferred to make her marvel in his grace, just like all humans should, but she just shot him a little look and tentatively.

Levi, although not terribly enthusiastically, sat down on the L near Erwin.

The annoying expanse of silence that widened over them, while Levi scratched the cat behind its ears, was almost exhausting. Truthfully, Eren did lag unnecessarily when he bathed, but Levi was wishing that maybe he could hurry it up a little for once. Being left in the living room with his boyfriend’s mother and sister wasn’t ideal, and only if no conversation was struck, he’d survive—

“Levi,” Carla said softly, and it took all of his strength to not swear aloud. “Since Eren’s busy, I suppose this is as good of a time as any to finally properly speak with you.”

 _This isn’t a very good time at all,_ he thought, and though he was very sure Carla was a wonderful woman, with wonderful virtues and just a wonderful disposition, this wasn’t the situation he wanted to be in. He had to remind himself time upon time to relax.

Eren hadn’t quite figured out how to inform her of their relationship yet. The brunette swore it wasn’t because he was putting it off or anything, which Levi knew was utter bullshit because that kid would probably procrastinate his own grave, and insisted that he just needed to find the right time and the right place. He said it wasn’t such a big deal, apparently, since his mother already knew he was gay and had been ready to accept Levi as her future son-in-law before he’d dispelled the idea. Carla was an intelligent woman, though, from the sounds of it (and to this point, the only complaint Levi could even fathom having was that she’d never properly taught her son how to cook). He didn’t know if he could simply _act_ like there was nothing between them.

Carla’s eyes were trained on Levi, and only Levi. Her attention didn’t waver and for the first time he actually found himself a little nervous. It was probably that damn light in her eyes, the one that reminded him so much of Eren.

“Might as well get to the point, then,” she said softly, leaning back into the black cushions when it was obvious Levi wasn’t going to speak. “My son is terrible at hiding things, you see. I have a feeling you’ve picked up on that.”

He nodded, and it was very true. Eren was an open book most of the time.

She waited, maybe two or three seconds to let the air still again, before she said, “I get the impression that you’ve been making the perfect couple. He does nothing but talk about you.”

Now he felt Mikasa’s eyes bearing into him as well, and the breath left his lungs all at once.

There were multiple reasons why he’d almost always ducked out of ‘meeting the parents’. While he wasn’t actually meeting both of Eren’s parents, really, he’d learned that Mikasa might as well be his second mother, both from word of mouth and experience. The main reason, of course, was confrontation, because he was entirely out of his element being the one confronted. It was happening now, though, whether he wanted it to or not.

Carla smiled, though, when he still offered no verbal response.

“I’m sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I know you’re probably a little worried about saying anything at all after last time. I did kind of cause some trouble for using what you’d said to my advantage, right? Eren told me you two didn’t speak for, what, close to a week?”

Levi allowed himself a relieved little huff of laughter as he felt his nerves melt away. He was easily thrown off by the motherly air Carla had, how she fit the persona so perfectly. She was soft and gentle when she needed to be, when she felt it was necessary, but fully capable of ferocity that, even though Levi hadn’t seen, he believed was there.

And that smile. Eren really had been on the right side of the gene tree.

“I’m glad things worked out though. You know, went from yelling at each other to, well.” She gestured to the room around then, and shot a pointed look at the cat, who was still puffed up and all-too-proud looking on the couch. “You’re spending a day off together and he’s using your shower.”

“I can’t get rid of him,” Levi murmured, leaning back into the cushions, himself. He felt boneless, now. “I toss him out and make him go to work, but he always comes home in time for dinner.”

Carla actually laughed at that, a hearty and healthy sound, and Levi wondered just how many things one person could inherit from their mother. “It’s like his teenage years all over again,” she said, finally reaching over Mikasa to give Erwin a few gentle strokes. The damn cat purred. “Let him stick around long enough and he’ll kind of grow on you, though.”

“Mmm, so I’ve learned,” Levi mused, voice dropping down gently. It was quiet enough in the apartment that they could hear the water shutting off and the pull of a shower curtain, and Levi knew the conversation would be over as soon as Eren stepped foot out of his bedroom. “He’s already grown on me. Like a tall, noisy growth.”

“He’ll do that,” Carla said, grinning. She eyed Levi’s bedroom door, as if waiting for her son to come bursting out any second. “Just take care of him for me, alright? He can talk to me whenever he’s ready.”

Levi hadn’t really realized it before, but he’d already made the silent agreement with himself to always take care of Eren. Whether this aspect of their relationship flourished or not, whether they fought and yelled at each other (which, honestly, he doubted would be uncommon), whether the asshole stuck around or found something or someone else to occupy his time. And perhaps Eren thought the same way, had decided that he’d be there to take care of Levi if he needed it, even if he was stubborn and rarely thought he did.

“Of course,” he said, smiling just a little as Eren finally came stomping out into the living room. “Lord knows he needs it.”

“Needs what?” Eren asked, cocking his head to the side after a slightly surprised greeting to his family members.

Levi only shrugged his shoulders.

“Who knows.”

 

[--X--]

 

 _It startled_ you?

They’re on Levi’s couch, curled up in an unceremonious lump of limbs at the corner of the L, eyes on the television, fingers entwined. Neither of them really pay attention, of course, but the sounds of the laugh track of yet another ridiculous sitcom plays well as background music for their pleasant silence. It’s no particularly beautiful moment, nothing special, but it’s comfortable.

_It takes practice to catch you off guard, and you’re usually the one surprising the shit out of other people. I’m amazed._

Eren rolls his head to the side and watches Levi. He watches the way his eyelashes move when he blinks, watches the slight twitch of his lips at something he’s managed to catch from the TV, watches as he reaches down with his free hand to pet the cat, who’s laying lazily on the carpet. He’s beautiful, Eren realizes, not for the first time, and not for the last. He reaches with his own free hand to run his fingers through Levi’s black hair, a smile playing at his lips when their eyes meet.

_Maybe you should get to know this person._

Levi says something about Eren’s dopey look, but he leans into the touch anyway and lets the brunette kiss his forehead anyway. He’s always been this sort of cuddle bug that nobody would have normally predicted. Eren’s touch, especially, still leaves him a little breathless, makes his heart beat a little faster and forces his stomach into flip-flops and cartwheels.

He never tells Eren to stop.

_Go on a few dates together. Adopt a cat._

Eren’s things mingle with Levi’s on the bookshelf, in the bathroom medicine cabinet, on counters and tables and among the pictures on the walls. There are two mugs that sit beside the coffee maker, clean and ready for in the morning. Two toothbrushes rest together in the holder on the bathroom counter. Eren’s rarely-used comb is missing a few teeth and that drives Levi insane, so there’ll be a new one of those soon.

_Move in together._

There’s someone else living in the apartment above, someone with a soft step and a cat of their own that likes to socialize with theirs. It’s been an uncountable number of days since the first ‘I love you’ and the last unpacked box.

Eren still looks at Levi like he’s the most wonderful, infuriating thing in the world and Levi still looks at Eren like he’s torn between pushing him off of the complex’s roof and kissing him senseless. They still say how much they love each other, and they’ve stopped leaving the leaving the apartment angry so much. There are still flaws, there are still draw-backs, and there are still problems because that’s who they are.

That’s alright, though.

_Talk about getting married and having children._

There’s only one aspect of the story left, and it will come in due time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word 'fuck' was used one hundred and eighty-two times in this series. Let that soak in.

**Author's Note:**

> boywitch.tumblr.com !


End file.
